Skip to main content

Full text of "The Knight of Our Burning Pestle"

See other formats

This is a digital copy of a book that was preserved for generations on library shelves before it was carefully scanned by Google as part of a project 
to make the world's books discoverable online. 

It has survived long enough for the copyright to expire and the book to enter the public domain. A public domain book is one that was never subject 
to copyright or whose legal copyright term has expired. Whether a book is in the public domain may vary country to country. Public domain books 
are our gateways to the past, representing a wealth of history, culture and knowledge that's often difficult to discover. 

Marks, notations and other marginalia present in the original volume will appear in this file - a reminder of this book's long journey from the 
publisher to a library and finally to you. 

Usage guidelines 

Google is proud to partner with libraries to digitize public domain materials and make them widely accessible. Public domain books belong to the 
public and we are merely their custodians. Nevertheless, this work is expensive, so in order to keep providing this resource, we have taken steps to 
prevent abuse by commercial parties, including placing technical restrictions on automated querying. 

We also ask that you: 

+ Make non-commercial use of the files We designed Google Book Search for use by individuals, and we request that you use these files for 
personal, non-commercial purposes. 

+ Refrain from automated querying Do not send automated queries of any sort to Google's system: If you are conducting research on machine 
translation, optical character recognition or other areas where access to a large amount of text is helpful, please contact us. We encourage the 
use of public domain materials for these purposes and may be able to help. 

+ Maintain attribution The Google "watermark" you see on each file is essential for informing people about this project and helping them find 
additional materials through Google Book Search. Please do not remove it. 

+ Keep it legal Whatever your use, remember that you are responsible for ensuring that what you are doing is legal. Do not assume that just 
because we believe a book is in the public domain for users in the United States, that the work is also in the public domain for users in other 
countries. Whether a book is still in copyright varies from country to country, and we can't offer guidance on whether any specific use of 
any specific book is allowed. Please do not assume that a book's appearance in Google Book Search means it can be used in any manner 
anywhere in the world. Copyright infringement liability can be quite severe. 

About Google Book Search 

Google's mission is to organize the world's information and to make it universally accessible and useful. Google Book Search helps readers 
discover the world's books while helping authors and publishers reach new audiences. You can search through the full text of this book on the web 

at |http : //books . google . com/ 






George Lyman Kittredge 











■J^U.WJ I 













A Thetit pratanted to tha Faculty of tho Graduato School of Yala 
Univartity in Candidacy for tha Dagraa of Doctor of Philoaophy 





/ ' Cj '1 




The Knight of the Burning Pestle performs an excep- 
tional office in the Jacobean drama. As the only con- 
siderable stage-burlesque of its day, it passes an 
unparalleled censure upon many of the theatrical 
vagaries of a decadent time. It is no less unique 
in that it affords a refreshing contrast to the tone 
of its authors* other work. Here, for once, Beaumont 
and Fletcher move in a pure and wholesome atmo- 
sphere. Through delightfully humorous agencies, the 
rare old comedy discloses the genuine humanity of 
a vanished age, its lineaments undisguised by the 
delusive artifice which is a besetting sin of these 
playwrights. If the modem reader is enabled to 
understand the antique subject-matter, he can easily 
see in this humanity, moreover, an authentic reflection 
of our own, and appreciate, in the dramatists' por- 
trayal of some of the elemental absurdities of our 
nature, a masterpiece of comic creation. 

But the subject-matter is remote and obsolete. The 
burlesque is immediately concerned with the Jacobean 
commoners' taste for the romances of chivalry, the 
eccentric plays which were the products of that taste, 
other forgotten stage-favorites of the Jacobeans, and 
the singular manners of Jacobean audiences. These 
peculiarities of a former civiliziation have long since 
passed out of the life of the race. It is the purpose 
of the present edition to make them intelligible, for 
the sake of completely revealing both the historic 




significance of the play and its more vital and 
enduring literary excellencies. It has been the 
editor's aim to render possible a full appreciation of 
The Knight of the Burning Pestle, not only as the 
earliest, and perhaps finest, of our dramatic bur- 
lesques, but also as one of the brightest examples 
of pure comedy in the language. 

The Introduction is mainly devoted to an exposition 
of the larger objects of the satire. Comment upon 
the details of Jacobean life to which the play bears 
reference is contained in the Notes. Peculiarities of 
the vocabulary are treated, for the most part, in the 

I desire to acknowledge my obligations to the fol- 
lowing members of Yale University: to Professor 
Albert S. Cook for inspiration and aid at every stage 
of my work; to Professor Henry A. Beers and Pro- 
fessor William L. Phelps for useful advice; to Dr. 
Rudolph Schevill for invaluable suggestions relative 
to the play's independence of Don Quixote, and its 
connections with the Spanish romances ; to Dr. Wil- 
liam S. Johnson for the benefit of frequent consul- 
tations; and to Mr. Andrew Keogh and Mr. Henry 
A. Gruener for assistance in bibliographical matters. 

A portion of the expense of printing this thesis 
has been borne by the Modem Language Club of 
Yale University from funds placed at its disposal by 
the generosity of Mr. George E. Dimock, of Elizabeth, 
New Jersey, a graduate of Yale in the class of 1874. 

Princeton UNivERsn-Y, 

Apn'l 20, 1907. 




A. Editions of the Text i 

B. Date and Stage-History . . . . xi 

C. Authorship ....... xxi 

D. Analogues and Attributed Sources zxxi 

1. The Romances of Chivalry and Don 

Quixote xxxii 

2. Contemporary Plays and Ballads lix 

E. Objects of the Satire Ixv 

1. Literary and Theatrical Tastes of the 

Middle Classes Ixvi 

a. The Fashion of Romance-reading and 

the Chivalric Drama . Ixvi 

b. Miscellaneous Stage-fsivorites of the 

Citizens xcv 

2. The Manners of Jacobean Audiences . cii 

3. Minor Objects of the Satire ex 

m. NOTES 106 





A. Editions of the Text. 

The Knight of the Burning Pestle was originally printed 
in quarto in 1613. A second quarto appeared in 1685, 
and still a third in the same year. The play, though 
not included in the First Folio of 1647, is in the Second 
Folio of 1679, ^d in all subsequent editions of the 
collected works of Beaumont and Fletcher. It is to 
be found, also, in three books of selected plays from 
English dramatists, and, finally, in a distinct volume 
in The Temple Dramatists series. 

1613. The quarto of 1613 is the only edition of the 
play which was issued during the lifetime of Beaumont 
and Fletcher. Though published after the theatre- 
going public had condemned the stage-presentation, 
and hence designed for the general reader, its inac- 
curacies and inconsistencies in punctuation, and, less 
frequently, in spelling, show that it was not transcribed 
from the authors' MS., but from the prompters' books 
or the playhouse copies. 

The imprint is a good example of the elementary 
stage of typography at the time. Frequent and an- 
noying blunders occur. Chief among them are the 
omission of commas, semicolons, periods, and interro- 
gation points, and the gratuitous substitution of any 
one of these marks of punctuation for another. Often 
the sense remains unimpaired in spite of these mis- 
takes ; quite as often, however, it is obscured or viti- 
ated by them. Owing, no doubt, to the unsettled 
condition of orthography at the time, inconsistencies 

ii Introduction 

in spelling, also, are to be found in the quarto. Thus 
we find Rafe and Raph for modem Ralph ; cunny^ conny^ 
and cony ; shatvmes and shawnes; of (off) and off; am 
('em) and 'em ; ben^ bene^ and beene ; faith and feth ; lam 
and lamb ; tane and ta'en for taken. There are numbers 
of purely typographical errors. 

In spite of these discrepancies and blunders, the 
quarto of 1613 presents the most satisfactory basis 
of departure for a critical treatment of the play. 
Many corrections are made in the quartos of 1635 
and the folio of 1679 ; but often, too, an original read- 
ing is preferable to its alteration, and neither the 
quartos nor the folio can be set forth as authorita- 
tive. All things considered, it has been deemed best 
to adopt for this edition the text of the First Quarto, 
and to subjoin whatever variant readings are helpful 
in removing difficulties or suggestive of alternative 

1635. Two quarto editions were published in 1635. 
Though they are identical in leaf-collation, neither is 
a reprint of the other. Copies of these editions are 
bound together in a single volume preserved in the 
Boston Public Library. I treat them, according to 
their arrangement, as Q, and Q,. 

Qj effects a valuable improvement in removing all 
of the misprints in the First Quarto as noted above. 
There is an advance toward modernization in spelling. 
There are one or two helpful emendations of the text, 
i. e. of 'em for 'em (1. 223), and get you to for get to 
(2. 256). There are many improvements upon the First 
Quarto in punctuation. On the other hand, there are 
a number of unwarranted alterations, i. e. by my faith 
for by faith (1. 264) ; / shall for shall I (2. 451) ; bound 
to thank you for bound to you (3. 319) ; blowing for bel- 
lowing (4. 468) ; Too for To (5. 14) ; paH for depaH (5. 374). 

Editions of the Text iii 

Q, represents few marked differences from Q,. There 
are a few further improvements in punctuation. The 
mistakes of Q, noted above are, however, retained, 
and to them are added these additional false readings : 
the omission of right (1. 345) ; estate for state (1. 391) ; 
deare for my deere deere (3. 1) ; are for i« (3. 121). Two 
other new readings, though retained in all subsequent 
editions, seem to me wrong, for reasons which are 
advanced in my notes; they are as for an (2. 179), 
and Pottage for Porrage (4. 216). 

In general, the quartos of 1635 may be said to be 
an improvement on the text of the earliest edition, 
offering, as they do, clearer and more consistent read- 
ings by virtue of their more careful punctuation; 
but the considerable number of indefensible altera- 
tions in them weighs against their authoritative value, 
and makes necessary a reversion to the original quarto 
as the basis of investigation. 

1679. The folio of 1679, so far as regards The 
Knight of the Burning Pestle, is a disappointing book. 
On the general title-page it is announced that the 
plays are 'published by the authors original copies/ 
but we learn in the bookseller's preface addressed 
to the readers that this statement applies only to 
the thirty-four plays previously issued in the First 
Folio, 1647, and, moreover, its validity is denied by 
competent investigators. The Knight of the Burning 
Pestle is not included among these thirty-four plays. 
It is one of the seventeen additional plays regarding 
which the booksellers of 1679 make the following 
statement: 'Besides, in this Edition you have the 
addition of no fewer than Seventeen Plays more 
than were in the former, which we have taken the 
pains and care to collect, and print out of 4 to in 
this Volume, which for distinction sake are markt 


iv Introduction 

with a Star in the Catalogue of them facing the first 
Page of the Book/ 

It is apparent that the folio of 1679 forms its text 
of The Knight of the Burning Pestle^ not upon the 
authors* MS., but upon the quarto editions already 
described. An examination of its readings, moreover, 
will show that the quartos of 1635, rather than the 
quarto of 1613, are depended upon. There has been 
occasion to cite, in the list of variants subjoined to 
my text, relatively few alterations of Q, and Q^ read- 
ings made by the folio. There is an occasional im- 
provement of the punctuation. There is also a further 
modernization of the spelling, notably in the follow- 
ing instances: the conjunction then regularly becomes 
than ; Rafe and Raph regularly become Ralph ; maneth 
regularly becomes month; maister regularly becomes 
master; diuel regularly becomes devil; a'th, a thy, a 
my, a your, &c., become o'^A, o thy, o my, o your, &c. 
On the other hand, all the false readings of Q, and 
Q^ noted above are carried over to the folio, and, to 
offset this flaw, the improvements afforded the text 
are not of sufficient number or of sufficient substan- 
tive value to give the folio any marked superiority 
over its predecessors. 

1711. This edition is of small worth. It ration- 
alizes the punctuation, indeed, in some passages mod- 
ernizes such markedly obsolete spelling as sute for 
shoot (1. 164), and introduces a good emendation, 
viz. These for There (4. 292). On the other hand, it 
makes arbitrary alterations, i. e. Grocers for Grocery 
(Ind. 97), and ignorant for Ingrant (3. 576), while, in 
general, it closely follows the folio, continuing the 
latter s errors, and adopting, but adding little to, its 

1750. This is the first edition of Beaumont and 

Editions of the Text v 

Fletcher's works in which an attempt is made toward 
a critical reconstruction of the text. The task was 
begun by Theobald, the Shakespearean commentator, 
and, after his death, concluded by Seward and Symp- 
son. These editors had access to all the early quartos, 
as well as the folios, and made pretensions to superior 
accuracy and care in the collation of the texts ; but, 
in the light of their results, their pretensions are 
seen to have been greater than their accomplishment 
They seem to have proceeded in their task, so far 
as may be judged from their treatment of The Knight 
of the Burning Pestle^ not by closely comparing the 
early editions line by line, but only by resorting to 
them in passages which they happened to regard as 
difficult ; while, moreover, out of their own unenlight- 
ened assurance, they dared to alter words and even 
passages, more frequently to the detriment than to 
the strengthening of the sense. The result was that 
many of the errors which had crept in through the 
successive reprints were retained, and another quota 
of blunders was added. The notes in which the new 
readings are defended are compounded of ludicrous 
self-sufficiency, obtuseness, and ignorance of the pecu- 
liarities of Elizabethan English. The most remarkable 
of these blunders in reading and annotation have 
been touched upon in my notes, i. e. 2. 182; 3. 271. 
One class of changes which has a specious value 
is the introduction of extra words in lines of halting 
metre ; but, though the editors are careful to choose 
words which do not distort the sense, such altera- 
tions sometimes color the sense strongly; they are 
at all events arbitrary ; and they are in most 
instances rejected by the careful and scholarly Dyce. 
Among the cases in point are; 1. 195; 3. 54; 4. 110; 
4. 133. 

vi Introduction 

The one distinctly useful contribution of the edition 
of 1750 is the arrangement in stanzaic form of the 
snatches from ballads sung by Old Merrythought 
In the older texts these verses are printed as prose, 
and, in some instances, are indistinguishable from 
their prose context. Through Seward and Sympson's 
helpful labors in this direction, one of the most pleas- 
ing aspects of the play is brought into fitting prom- 

In general, we may say that, though the edition 
of 1750 is the first serious effort toward a recon- 
struction of the text, it is wholly inadequate; it is 
so because of carelessness in collation, rashness and 
presumption in its new readings, and ignorance of 
the peculiarities of Elizabethan English. 

1778. George Colman, Isaac Reed, and others were 
co-workers in this complete edition of Beaumont 
and Fletcher's works. They professed to supply a 
critical text, but the retention of errors introduced 
through successive reprints oi The Knight of the Burn- 
ing Pestle shows that careful collations of the early 
quartos were not made, and that the significance of 
these errors was not grasped. In this text the mis- 
takes made in the Second and Third Quartos are not 
corrected. Sympson's blundering change of mighty 
hord to mighty bore (3. 271) is not corrected, and Lady. 
For and (2. 182) is still further vitiated by being 
changed to lady. Ralph. Fair! And. The interpolations 
made by Sympson to fill out incomplete measures 
are usually retained. The editors are guilty of a few 
arbitrary readings of their own, i. e. God's wounds for 
Gods (1.490), vile for wilde (3.404), and the ar- 
rangement of 5. 100-178 in verse form. 

Colman and Reed show, however, much greater 
critical acumen than Seward and Sympson. They 

Editions of the Text vii 

are aware of the deficiencies of these editors, and 
in the preface strongly condemn their ^unpardonable 
faults of faithlessness and misrepresentation. * Seward 
and Sympson's arbitrary changes are discarded, for 
the most part, and the original readings are restored. 
A few significant alterations are made. Among them 
may be noted the rendition in stanzaic form of 
1. 465-56, which had been overlooked by Sympson; 
the justified interpolation of Hack (4. 49), and of an 
end (5. 807). The value of the edition, however, lies 
in the rejection of Seward and Sympson's impertinent 
readings, and in signal improvements of punctuation, 
which materially lessened the task of succeeding 

1812. This is a pretentious, but very imperfect, 
edition of fourteen volumes. It was undertaken by 
Henry Weber, a German, the amanuensis of Sir Walter 
Scott. In his task, he had the help of Mason's Com- 
ments on Beaumont and Fletcher^ and a copy of the 
dramatists which had been interleaved and annotated 
by Scott. 

Weber's treatment of The Knight of the Burning 
Pestle makes a commendable advance in the regu- 
lation of the text. This is the outcome of a truly 
scrupulous collation of all the old copies of the play, 
a fairly judicious choice of readings, the insertion of 
entirely new and clarifying scene-divisions, scene- 
headings, and stage-directions, and the rejection of 
Seward and Sympson's awkward metrical arrange- 
ments of certain prose passages. 

But though painstaking, conscientious, and often 
successful in supplying useful features to his edition, 
Weber, as a foreigner, was not properly equipped to 
edit English dramatists. Gifford says: 

viii Introduction 

Mr. Weber had never read an old play in his life ; he was but im- 
perfectly acquainted with our language ; and of the manners, customs, 
habits, of what was and was not familiar to us as a nation, he possessed 
no knowledge whatever ; but secure in ignorance, he entertained a com- 
fortable opinion of himself, and never doubted that he was qualified 
to instruct and enliven the public. 

This dictum regarding Weber's incompetency seems 
substantiated in the case of The Knight of the Burning 
Pestle, A review of the variants will show that Weber 
continued numbers of his predecessors' errors, which 
his familiarity with the early editions ought to have 
enabled him to remove, while ignorance of the pecu- 
liarities of Elizabethan English and popular literature 
is further revealed in a large number of new and 
unwarranted alterations of the original text. Most 
of these errors are commented upon in my notes. 

1843-46. During these years appeared the best 
of all the complete editions of Beaumont and Flet- 
cher's works — that of the Rev. Alexander Dyce. 
Dyce's treatment of the text of The Knight of the 
Burning Pestle leaves little to be desired. An examin- 
ation of the variants will show that in nearly every 
instance he has produced a rational and satisfying 
solution of a given difficulty. The absurd and con- 
fusing readings which were his heritage from a dozen 
predecessors he has repudiated. The meritorious 
features of foregoing editions he has appropriated 
or improved upon. The work of dividing the acts 
into scenes, begun by Weber, he has carried out 
more consistently and exactly than Weber himself 
had done. Weber's scene-headings, when not fol- 
lowed exactly, are given a more precise and specific 
treatment. Weber's stage-directions, where misplaced, 
are removed to their proper setting. To all of these 
particular features — scene-divisions, scene-headings, 
and stage-directions — additions are made which are 

Editions of the Text ix 

invariably logical, and helpful in illuminating the text. 
In regard to other details, it may be said that Dyce 
has cleared up the disordered punctuation, normalized 
the spelling, removed nearly all the errors, and ad- 
justed the loose ends left in preceding editions. 

Dyce's text, however, does not seem to me to be 
impeccable. Some of his readings would not be 
approved by more recent scholarship. In the light 
of Elizabethan usage, as given in such authorities 
as the New English Dictionary and Abbott's Shakespearean 
Grammar, by faith (1. 264) should not become by my 
faith, must be (I, 38) should not become shall be, noint- 
ing (4. 136), should not become 'nointing, and (1, 490) 
should not become an, &c. These are trifling points, 
perhaps, but they show that Dyce's knowledge of 
Elizabethan English was not infallible, and that other 
supposed corrections in the modern edition may be the 
result of ignorance of archaic peculiarities which are 
beyond the reach of present scholarship. I have 
taken exception in my notes to Dyce's reading of 
as for an (2. 179), vild for wilde (3. 404), pottage for 
porrage (4. 216), and stock for Flocke (4. 444). I ques- 
tion, too, the propriety of such readings as afraid 
for afeard (3. 461), and such modernizations as have 
for ha (2. 273, &c.) and he for a (2. 268), since the 
original words are not obscure in meaning, and pre- 
serve the pleasingly archaic and colloquial tone of 
the passages. 

The remaining editions of Beaumont and Fletcher 
which include our play are reprints of preceding 
ones, and hence do not demand detailed notice. 
The text of 1778 was embodied in a four-volume 
edition of the plays of Ben Jonson and Beaumont 
and Fletcher, published in 1811. The text of Weber 
was reissued in 1840 in two volumes, to which was 

X Introduction 

prefixed an introduction on the dramatic art of the 
authors by George Darley. The book is known as 
Darley's edition. It was reprinted in 1866, and again 
in 1885. In Burlesque Plays and Poems (Morley^s Uni- 
versal Library), 1885, there is a reprint of our plaj% 
taken, not as might be expected, from the standard 
edition of Dyce, but from the wretched and univer- 
sally condemned edition of 1750 ! In it, readings from 
the later editions are now and then substituted, and 
objectionable passages are altered or expurgated ; but 
there is no distinctiveness about the book, and it 
does not call for extended description. Dyce's text 
is incorporated, save for a few slight alterations, in 
the two volumes of Beaumont and Fletcher's plays, 
among them The Knight of the Burning Pestle^ pub- 
lished in 1887 in The Mermaid Series. The editor is 
J. St. Loe Strachey. Dyce's text in also adopted, 
except in one or two details, by R. W. Moorman, in 
his edition of The Knight of the Burning Pestle in the 
series of The Tetnple Dramatists^ 1898. Moorman in- 
cludes a brief introduction, notes which are mostly 
reduced from Dyce, and a small but useful glossary. 
The Library Catalogue of the British Museum con- 
tains the following entry: 1. 'The Works of the 
British Dramatists. Carefully selected from the best 
editions, with copious notes, biographies, and a 
historical introduction by J. S. K. (John Scott Keltie). 
Edinburgh, 1870. 8\' 2. 'Famous Elizabethan Plays 
expurgated and adapted for modem readers, by H. Ma- 
caulay Fitzgibbon, M. A. London, 1890.' Each of 
these selections contains The Knight of the Burning 
Pestle, I have been unable to see a copy of either 
book, but I am informed by the authorities of the 
British Museum that in each case the text of our 
play is based on Weber's edition, with the exception 

Daie and Stage-History xi 

of a few unimportant deviations which are adopted 
from Dyce. The majority of Keltie's notes are his 
own, but they are such as could have been gathered 
from a dictionary, or from an intelligent reading of 
the context. Fitzgibbon's notes are very few, and the 
majority are supplied by Dyce. Fitzgibbons has ex- 
purgated or altered objectionable passages. 

B. Date and Stage-History. 

The first published quarto of The Knight of the 
Burning Pestle bears the date of 1613. The date of 
the play's composition is to be determined by the 
evidence of internal allusions, and the statements of 
Burre, the publisher. 

To find the earliest probable limits for the date, 
one must turn to the lines of the play itself R. Boyle *, 
and, following him, A. H. Thomdike', adduce the 
resemblance in burlesque spirit to The Woman Hater^ 
and the allusion (4. 44) to an incident in Day, Row- 
ley, and Wilkin's Travailes of Three English Brothers^ 
as presumptive evidence that our comedy originated 
about 1607, in which year the first of these plays 
seems to have appeared, and in which the second 
was printed as acted at the Curtain Theatre. Boyle 
believes that since the Travailes was based on the 
adventures of the three Shirleys, and was only of 
immediate interest, a reference to it would most like- 
ly be made only when that play was fresh. The 
Boy in our passage, however, expressly states that 
the play is 'stale'; moreover, that it 'hadbeenehad 
before at the red Bull,' and so far as is ascertainable, 

* Biimmant and FUteher^s Knight of the Burning Pestle, Englische 
SiMdUn^ Band XU, p. 156. 

* Jn/bience of Beaumont and Fletcher on ShaJusfeare^ 1 90 1, p. 60. 

xii Introduction 

the Red Bull Theatre was not occupied before 1609. 
The comparison with The Woman Hater is hardly a 
tenable argument, since there is no good reason 
why Beaumont, whose hand is everywhere manifest 
in that comedy, and whose humor is essentially of 
the broader sort, should not, any number of 3'ears 
after 1607, have conceived another play similarly 
burlesque in tone ; particularly is this true in view 
of the fact that he did effect semi-burlesque creations 
in the character of Bessus (King and No King)^ 1608, 
of Pharamond (Philaster\ 1610, and of Calianax (The 
Maid's Tragedy), 1610. Thomdike would have it also 
that the allusion to the 'King of Moldavia* (4. 71) 
points to 1607 as the date of our play, since in 
Nichols' Progresses of King James the First 2. 157 it is re- 
corded that one Rowland White wrote from the court 
on Nov. 7 of that year: 'The Turke and the Prince 
of Moldavia are now going away.' But there is a 
similar allusion to the Prince of Moldavia, as to a 
former visitor to England, in Jonson's Epicoene 5. 1, 
which was not produced until 1609-10, as is proved 
by internal references to the plague of 1609^. The 
recollection of the eastern potentate's visit seems to 
have lasted at least two years. The evidence pro- 
duced by Boyle and Thomdike would really indicate 
1609, at least, as the earliest possible date. An ad- 
ded indication to the same eflFect is that several of 
Old Merrythought's songs are founded on Ravens- 
croft's collections, Deuteromelia and Pammelia^ which 
were both entered on the Stationers' Registers in 1609, 
though, as Thomdike justly remarks, these were col- 
lections of songs and snatches already familiar. 

But the date seems to be still further pushed for- 
ward by the apparent identity of 'the little child 

* Cf. Epicoene f cd. Aurclia Henry {Yale Studies in English)^ p. XXII. 

Date and Stage-History xiii 

that was so faire growne,' &c., (3. 304) and 'the boy 
of six years old,* &c., in Ben Jonson's Alchemist 5. 1, 
which appeared in 1610. I think we may reject as 
of very doubtful value Fleay's statement that 'the 
hermaphrodite* (3. 305) was no doubt 'the monstrous 
child* bom 1609, July 31, at Sandwich (see S. R. 1609, 
Aug. 26, 31), which was probably shown in London 
1609-10 *^ This is pure conjecture; in the Stationers' 
Registers there is no specification of a hermaphrodite, 
and we do not know that 'the monstrous child* was 
shown in London. On the other hand, a strong in- 
ternal evidence on the date of the play is pointed 
out by Fleay, and I am inclined to accept is as nearly 
conclusive. It rests in the Citizen*s words: Wead the 
play of the Foure Prentices of London * (4. 66). That 
this play of Heywood*s, though the earliest extant 
edition was printed in 1615, was previously issued 
from the press in 1610, is virtually proved by the 
author's preface, where he says that The Four Prentices 
could not have 'found a more seasonable and fit 
publication then at this time, when . . . they haue 
begun again the commendable practice of long for- 
gotten arms.' This is an allusion to the revival of 
the practice of arms in the Artillery Gardens, 1610, 
and to that revival as of very recent occurrence. If, 
as is indicated by this allusion. The Four Prentices 
was thus first published in 1610, the Citizen could 
only have directed his auditor to 'read' it in that or 
a succeeding year. 

It must be acknowledged that there is one con- 
siderable difficulty in the way of establishing 1610 as 
the date. It is in the Citizen's statement, 'This seven 
yeares there hath beene playes at this house,' &c. 

' Fleay*s discuisioQ of the date is in his Biog, Chr, of the English 
Drama i. 1 82—5. 

XIV Introduction 

(Ind. 8). Mr. Fleay believes that play was acted 
by the Queen's Revels Children at Whitefnars\ but 
there is no mention of a Whitefriars theatre as existent 
seven years before 1610. The first known record of 
the playhouse is in regard to its occupancy from 1607 
to 1610^. Frequent references in the play to children 
as its actors show that it was produced by a children's 
company, which fact, coupled with the reference to 
'the seven yeares,' leads Thomdike to suggest its 
presentation either by the Queen's Revels at Black- 
friars during their seven years of occupancy of that 
theatre from 1600-1607, or by the Paul's boys during 
the period 1599-1606-7 (the years of their second 
organization); all of which circumstances are used 
by Thomdike to fix the date at 1607. However, 
there is nothing to warrant the supposition that the 
theatre to which the Citizen refers had been contin- 
uously occupied by children for seven years; its 
early tenants may have been an adult company. It 
may, therefore, have been another theatre than Black- 
friars. Fleay 's inference that the play was produced 
at Whitefriars, and therefore that that playhouse was 
in existence seven years before 1610 is indeed a 
conjecture, but it seems to me, in the light of 
other considerations supporting the 1610 date, not a 
violent one. At all events, there is nothing to dis- 
prove it, and it does not so positively invalidate the 
argument for 1610 as the facts above adduced in- 
validate the argument for 1607. 

The external evidence points explicitly to 1610 or 
1611 as the date. In his dedicatory epistle to Robert 
Keysar, Burre, the publisher of the First Quarto, 1613, 

* Cf. Fleay, History of the Stage^ pp. i86, 203. 

" Cf. Greenstrecl, The Whitefriars Theatre in the Time of Shakspere 
(New Shahs, Sec. Trans., 1888). 

Date and Stage-History xv 

says that Keysar had previously sent him the play, 
* yet being an infant and somewhat ragged,' and that 
he *had fostred it priuately* in his 'bosome these 
two yeares.' Burre also writes, 'perhaps it will be 
thought to be of the race of Don Quixote ; we both 
may confidently sweare, it is his elder aboue ayeare.' 
This allusion to Don Quixote is not to the Spanish 
original, 1605, which is too early a date for our 
play, but to Shelton's English translation of Part I, 
entered on i\it Stationers' Registers ]^xiA9^iQii^ though 
dated on the printed copies 1612. Carrying the date 
back from 1612 'aboue a yeare,' we place it early in 
1611 or late in 1610, which result agrees with Burre's 
statement that when he received it in 1611 it was 
still an 'infant' Its 'raggedness,' so far as this may 
be submitted in evidence at all, may perhaps indi- 
cate that the copy had been battered about suf- 
ficiently long to show that its origin was in 1610. 
It is still more closely drawn toward 1610 by the 
internal features, already named, which bear reference 
to that year. Thomdike does not attempt to over- 
throw the evidence of Burre's letter. He simply says : 
'If we assume a 1607 date, we shall have to assume 
that Robert Keysar turned the play over to Burre 
a considerable time after its first production, and that 
Burre knew nothing personally of its first production.' 
This assumption of Burre's ignorance is arbitrary, and 
certainly based on an improbability. 

In brief, the collective indications, internal and ex- 
ternal, lead me to agree with Fleay in assigning the 
origin of the play to the year 1610 or 1611, and to 
regard the former as the more probable date. 

Records of the early stage- productions of The 
Knight of the Burning Pestle are very meagre. That 
it met with a swift and decisive condemnation from 

xvi Introduction 

its first audience is certain. The publisher of the 
First QuartO; in his dedication to Robert Keysar, wrote : 

Sir, this vnfortunate child, who in eight dales (as lately I have 
learned) was begot and borne, soone after was by his parents ex- 
posed to the wide world, who for want of judgement, or not Tnder- 
standing the priuy marke of Ironie about it (which shewed it was no 
ofepring of any vulgar braine) vttcrly rejected it : so that for want of 
acceptance it was euen ready to giue vp the Ghost, and was in danger 
to haue bene smothered in perpetuall obliuion, if you (out of your 
direct antipathy to ingratitude) had not been moued both to relieue 
and cherish it 

We can easily believe that the citizen spectators 
who damned the play on its first appearance were^ 
indeed, not at all devoid of an understanding of ^the 
priuy marke of Ironie about it,' but, on the contrary, 
that their very consciousness of its incisive, scathing 
satire on their tastes and manners aroused their vig- 
orous hostility. It is unlikely that the rich and in- 
fluential tradesmen and their aggressive wives, who 
more and more under James I assumed a sort of 
dictatorship over the theatre, would have remained 
quiet at this open affront to their civic and personal 
pride, and this unsolicited, unsavory spicing of the 
literary and theatrical pabulum upon which they fed. 
Equally improbable is it that the roisterous London 
apprentices, who so frequently played havoc at the 
theatre, would have brooked the ridicule cast upon 
them through the erratic behavior of their comrade 
Ralph. The sting of the satire must have penetrated 
deeply, and it must have been in the heat of an 
active resentment againt the play that the offended 
London commoners, as Burre tells us, 'vtterly re- 
jected it' 

However that may be, the comedy seems to have 
disappeared from the boards for many years, and, in 
fact, not to have emerged to view until 1635, when 
it was entered on the list of plays at the Cockpit 

Date and Stage-History xvii 

Theatre. The title-page of the Second Quarto tells 
us that the play is therein reprinted 'as it is now 
acted by her Majestie's Servants at the Private house 
in Drury Lane. 1635.' (The Cockpit was frequently 
called 'the private house in Drury Lane.*) 

That our play was known to the theatre-going 
public in 1635 is proved, not only by the Second 
Quarto, but also by a passage, which I here trans- 
scribe, from Richard Brome's Sparagas Garden 2. 2, 
first acted in that year: 

Rebecca. I long to sec a play, and above all plays, TTte Knight 

of the Burning what d'ye call it ? 

Monylacke, The Knight of the Burning Pestle, 
Rebecca. Pestle is't ? I thought of another thing, but I would 
fain see it They say there's a grocer's boy kills a giant in it, and 

another little boy that does a citizen's wife the daintiliest ^but I 

would fain see their best actor do me ; I would put him to't : ' I 
warrant him.' 

Whether the revival of the play called forth a 
renewed expression of disapproval from the populace 
is not known. It is probable that, as given at the 
Cockpit, it was acted before aristocratic spectators, 
since that theatre was a ^private house,* and, as such, 
was resorted to by the more select gentry, by the 
nobility, and even by Queen Henrietta herself. Such 
an audience could have received with an amused 
composure impossible in a public theatre this delic- 
ious burlesque on the absurd pretentiousness and 
low tastes of the commoners. 

Whatever its reception at Drury Lane, the play 
seems to have met with favor in court circles, for in 
Sir Henry Herbert's MSS. is this item (of the year 

The 28. Feb. The Knight of the Burning Pestle playd by the 
Qmen at St James. 

In 1639 the ownership of The Knight of the Burning 
Pestle and 44 other plays, among them several of 


xviii Introduction 

Beaumont and Fletcher's works, was secured by a 
company at the Cockpit known as ^ Beeston*s Boys/ 
which succeeded Her Majesty's Servants at that 
Theatre in 1637. No definite account of a stage- 
production of our play at this period is attainable, 
but that it must have been familiar to theatre-goers 
is evident from the allusion to it in Glapthome's 
Wit in a Constable 2. 1, printed in 1640 'as lately 
acted at the Cockpit in Drury lane^ by their Majestie's 
Servants,' i. e. ' Beeston's Boys,' who sometimes were 
given that title. In this play, Clare, niece to Alder- 
man Covet, objects to a match which her uncle is 
trying to force upon her. She says to him: 

Nor shall you 
(As sure tis your intention) marry me 
To th' quondam fare-man of your shop, (exalted 
To be your Cash-keeper) a limber fellow 
Fit onely for dearc Nan, his schoole-fellow, 
A Grocer's daughter, borne in Broad-street, with 
Whom he used to goe to Pimblie's — 
And by the way has courted her with fragments, 
Stolen from the learned Legends of Knight Errants, 
C)r from the glory of her father's trade, 
Thf Knight o*the Burning Pestle, 

Since the play was appropriated by 'Beeston's Boys* 
in 1639, it is probable that it was acted by them 
from time to time, but there is no further record of 
it until after the Restoration. Malone (in Boswell 3. 
275), gives a list of plays from Sir Henry Herbert's 
MSS. in the order of their reappearance after 1660. 
According to this list, The Knight of the Burning Pestle 
was acted on May 5, 1662, but none of the circum- 
stances of the event are recorded. Malone says, in 
connection with this table: 

Such was the lamentable taste of those times that the plays of 
Fletcher, Jonson, and Shirley were much oftener exhibited than those 
of our author, 

Date and Stage-History xix 

i. e. Shakespeare. Indeed, Beaumont and Fletcher 
enjoyed an enormous vogue during the Restoration 
period. Dryden's statement in An Essay of Dramatic 
Poesy J 1668, regarding their popularity, is often quoted. 
He says : 

Their plays are now the most pleasant and frequent entertainments 
of the stage ; two of theirs being acted through the year for one of 
Shakespeare^s or Johnson's : the reason is, because there is a certain 
gaiety in their comedies, and pathos in their more serious plays, which 
suits generally with all men's humours. 

It would be unsafe to assert that The Knight of the 
Burning Pestle was received with pronounced favor, 
since its vigorous humor is essentially different from 
the kind of ^gaiety* which made its authors* other 
comedies acceptable to the artificial and languid 
society of the Restoration. 

The play continued to be acted, however. Gerard 
Langbaine, writing in An Account of the English Dror 
maiic Poets, 1691, says : 

Knight of the Burning Pestle^ a Comedy. This play was in 
vogue some years since, it being reviv'd by the King's House, and a 
new Prologue (instead of the old one in prose) being spoken by Mrs. 
Ellen Guin. 

Genest remarks that this revival must have taken 
place before 1671, since in that year the King s house, 
that is, the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane, was des- 
troyed by fire. The Ellen Gwyn mentioned by Lang- 
baine was the beautiful, but notorious, actress, more 
generally known as Nell Gwyn, who became the 
mistress of Charles II. No doubt she did proper 
justice to her part in our play. 

She spoke prologues and epilogues with wonderful effect, danced to 
perfection, and in her peculiar but not extensive line was, perhaps, 
nnequaled for the natural feeling which she put into the parts most 
suited to her*. 

* Doran, English Stage i. 62. 



The last presentation of our play in the seventeenth 
century, so far as I have discovered, was in 1682. 
According to Genest^, it was acted that year at the 
Theatre Royal, which had been restored in 1674. 

After 1682 the play seems to have sunk into an 
oblivion more profound and lasting than that to which 
its earliest auditors consigned it. Many of the other 
productions of its authors held their vogue through 
the whole of the eighteenth century, and a few of 
them, notably The Maid's Trugedy^ were occasionally 
acted, with alterations^ during the early part of the 
nineteenth century. But The Knight of the Burning 
Pestle, as a stage-performance, was forgotten. This 
was inevitable, after the manners which it depicts had 
become obsolete, and the literary and theatrical sing- 
ularities which it burlesques had become foreign to 
the knowledge of general audiences. 

The old comedy seems to have slept between its 
book-covers for over two hundred years. So far as 
I am aware, it has been only recently revived, and, 
moreover, only in America. Five presentations of it 
have been given in this country within the last dec- 
ade, two at Yale University, one in New York City, 
one at Stanford University, and one in Chicago. 

The first of these performances was accomplished 
on March 28, 1898, by graduate students in English 
at Yale, being the outgrowth of a Seminary in the 
Jacobean Drama*. It was witnessed chiefly by the 
officers of the English department, but proved to 
be so successful that it was repeated before a wider 
audience in Warner Hall, New Haven, on April 29, 
1898. The comedy was enthusiastically received by 
a general audience in New York City, March 26, 

* Genest, English Stage i. 348. 
* This Seminary was conducted by Professor Cook. 

Authorship xxi 

1901, when it was acted by students of the American 
Academy of Dramatic Arts at the Empire Theatre. 
These several presentations approximated a reproduc- 
tion of the old-time settings and environments of the 
stage. A more complete realization of the Elizabethan 
setting, however, was effected at Stanford University 
in March, 1903, when the comedy was set forth by 
students on an improvised Elizabethan stage. This 
structure was modeled in part on the stage of the 
Swan Theatre as represented in a rough drawing of 
its interior made about 1596 by Johannes de Witt, 
a Dutch visitor to London. The last recorded pro- 
duction of the play was given on Dec. 19, 1905, in 
Chicago, by pupils of the School of Acting of the 
Chicago Musical College. The chosen stage in 
Chicago was that of the Studebaker Theatre. It 
also was set to resemble as nearly as possible de 
Witt's drawing of the Swan Theatre. 

C. Authorship. 

The authorship of The Knight of the Burning Pestle 
is a matter of dispute. It is questioned whether the 
comedy was composed by one or by both of the 
playwrights to which it is attributed, and, if by 
bodi, whether Beaumont or Fletcher was the principal 
workman. For the determination of this problem, it 
is here practicable merely to adopt the methods of 
solution which have been formulated by the critics 
for the detection of single or double authorship in 
other debatable plays traditionally ascribed to the 
collaboration of the dramatists, and for the severance 
of their individual shares in plays of which the double 
authorship is undoubted. 

Throughout the investigations, the external proofs 

xxii Introduction 

fall into two general groups chronological and doc- 
umentary. Chronologically, Beaumont could have 
written, wholly or partially, only those plays which 
originated before 1616 the year of his death. Docu- 
ments bearing upon the problem are of little value : 
prefatory verses, prologues, dedications, and title- 
pages assign the plays to Beaumont and to Fletcher, 
singly and conjointly, and are filled with contra- 
dictions and inaccuracies. 

Manifestly, the internal proofs form the surest basis 
of judgment, subject, wherever possible, of course, 
to the regulative weight of dates. The internal tests 
whereby Beaumont and Fletcher s editors made their 
apportionments have been chiefly literary. As such, 
their effectiveness depended upon the critic's personal 
power of discerning differences in quality between 
plays known to have been written by the dramatists 
separately, and the subsequent application of his 
results to the apportionment of plays in which they 
may have collaborated. A more closely critical and 
scientific investigation was begun in 1874 by F. G.Fleay 
in a paper entitled Metrical Tests as applied to Fletcher^ 
Beaumont^ and Massinger^ which was read before the 
New Shakespeare Society. This system of metrical 
inquiry has since been elaborated and improved by 
R. Boyle, G. C. Macaulay, and E. N. Oliphant. Through 
the successive experiments, a critical canon has been 
developed, which is a fairly reliable instrument for 
the solution of this problem of authorship. 

It is necessary to our purpose to summarize only 
the methods of the metrical critics, since, latterly at 
least, they have absorbed all that is of value in the 
purely literary tests, and have added the positive 
scientific data essential to proof 

In his study of those of Fletcher's plays which 

Authorship xxiii 

were written after the death of Beaumont, Fleay 
discovered the following metrical peculiarities: 

1. A very large number of double or feminine 

2. Frequent pauses at the end of the lines. 

3. Moderate use of rimes. 

4. Moderate use of short lines. 

5. Complete absence of prose. 

6. An abundance of trisyllabic feet. 

With these criteria, Fleay proceeded to examine 
the doubtful plays, i. e. those produced before Beau- 
mont's death. He applied to them the test of Fletcher s 
metrical peculiarities, and those of Beaumont in one 
of the latter 's confessedly independent productions, 
viz. the first half of Four Plays in One, He discovered 
that the distinguishing marks of Beaumont's metre, 
as determined by this play, are as follows: 

1. A relatively small use of double endings. 

2. The frequent employment of rimes. 

3. Occasional incompleteness in the lines. 

4. Run-on lines. 

5. Use of prose. 

Boyle, in his articles entitled JSeaumont, Fletcher, 
and Massinger, in Englische Studien^ Bande V-VIII., 
practically adopted Fleay's tests, and added the test 
of the light and weak endings prevalent in Fletcher s 
verse. He laid particular emphasis upon double end- 
ings, because of the far greater proportion of such 
endings in Fletcher's acknowledged plays over plays 
of Beaumont's sole or partial authorship. 

G. C. Macaulay, in his Francis Beaumont^ 1883, and 
E. H. Oliphant, in The Works of Beaumont and Fletcher, 
Englische Studien^ Band XIV., continued the investiga- 
tion of metre. They found, as did their predecessors, 
especial significance in Fletcher's use of redundant 

xxiv Introduction 

syllables in all parts of the line, but particularly at 
the end; his rise of emphasis in end-pauses, even 
upon weak syllables ; and the absence of prose. Con- 
versely, they found the plays to which Beaumont con- 
tributed distinguished by an unrestricted freedom in 
the use of run-on lines, though with a comparative 
freedom from redundancy, and by prose passages 
not requiring dignified expression. They broadened, 
however, the scope of differentiation. They recog- 
nized that metrical characteristics are an outgrowth 
of the matter, and of the general style of expression. 
That is, they united literary and metrical consid- 
erations of the plays. Proceeding upon this basis, 
they discovered that Fletcher's looseness of metre 
corresponds to a looseness in sentence-structure and 
plot, and to a certain shallowness and instability in 
the mental and moral temperament of the dramatist ; 
on the other hand, that the regularity of metre in 
Beaumont is accompanied by the periodic or rounded 
style of speech, approximate regularity and effec- 
tiveness of plot, depth in the general conception, 
rich powers of humorous characterization, tragic 
power of a high order, and a large degree of moral 
earnestness. One specific quality attributed to Beau- 
mont is his faculty for burlesque, an element which 
nowhere appears in Fletcher's independent work. 

Let us now consider how the various sorts of evid- 
ence point to the authorship of The Knight of the 
Burning Pestle. The title-page of the First Quarto 
bears the date of 1613. This is definite proof that 
the play originated during the years when col- 
laboration was possible. Other external evidences 
are inconclusive. In the dedication prefixed to the 
First Quarto, Burre, the publisher, speaks of the 
parents of the play, but he also speaks twice of its 

Authorship xxv 

fathery thus leaving the matter of single or double 
authorship doubtful. In the address ^To the Readers 
of this Comedy/ prefixed to the quarto of 1635, we 
are told that the ^Author had no intent to wrong any 
one in this Comedy,' but the title-page bears the 
names of both dramatists. In the Prologue of this 
edition, the words ^Authors intention' may point to 
either single or double authorship, because of the 
omission of the apostrophe. Dyce suggests that if 
the play was really written in eight days, as Burre 
states it to have been, the probabilities are that more 
than one hand was engaged upon it The external 
evidences, however, are so incomplete and contra- 
dictory that they do not satisfactorily bear out any 
theory of authorship. 

It is necessary, then, to refer to the play's internal 
features for evidence of real value. Fleay did not 
apply his metrical tests at all closely to this comedy, 
and made a worthless division, giving Beaumont all 
the prose, and declaring the rest 'mixed.' Boyle 
reduced the results of his study of the play to the 
form of a chart, in which he attempted to designate 
the authorship of every scene in Weber's divisions 
of the acts. He disregarded the Induction, the scat- 
tered songs, and the remarks of the Citizen and the 
Wife. In the body of the play, he found the dis- 
tinguishing marks of the style to exist in the follow- 
ing proportions: prose, 473 lines; verse, 1152 lines; 
double endings, 268 ; run-on lines, 205 ; light endings, 
8 ; weak endings, 1 ; rimes, 270. In percentages, the 
verse amounts to 23. 2 in double endings ; 18 in run- 
on lines ; 0. 7 in light endings ; 23. 4 in rimes. Boyle 
did not attempt to determine the dramatists' pro- 
portionate shares in the prose, but formed the follow- 
ing summary upon the basis of the verse : 




Beaumont's Part. 


d. e. r. 0. 1. 1. e. 

w. e. 



44 86 4 


Per cent. 

8 16 — 
Fletcher's Part 


224 119 4 



Per cent. 

36.8 19.S — 



Macaulay and Oliphant did not give detailed study to 
the authorship of the play. Macaulay simply wrote : 

From internal evidence we should be disposed to attribute the play 
to a single writer : and we can have little hesitation in ascribing it 
to that one of our authors of whom the mock-heroic style is charac- 
teristic •. 

He accordingly attributed the play wholly to Beau- 
mont. Oliphant reached the same conclusion. He 

It is, in my opinion, wholly or almost wholly his. Every scene 
shows traces of his hand, though the latter part of V. 4 may belong 
to Fletcher, who may also have revised II. 2. But I cannot think 
Fletcher would be contented with writing only a part of two scenes ; 
and, as there is nothing in the play that might not be Beaumont's, I 
must give it wholly to the latter*. 

Now, through the application of such standards of 
judgment as are supplied to me by the critical meth- 
ods outlined above, and by my personal impres- 
sions of Beaumont and Fletcher, I have concluded 
that Boyle gave too much, and Macaulay and Oli- 
phant too little of the credit of this play's compo- 
sition to Fletcher. It is not necessary here to write 
a critique upon all of Fletcher's peculiarities as mani- 
fested in his independent plays ; suffice it to say that, 
to my mind, these peculiarities are demonstrably 
present in The Knight of the Burning Pestle in the 
scenes, though only in the scenes, which develop 

• Francis Beaumont^ p. 82. 

• Tlie Works of Beaumont and Fletcher. Englische Studien^ Band XIV, 
p. 88. 

Authorship xxvii 

the love-adventures of Luce and Jasper. The love- 
theme is, indeed, of so conventional a sort that either 
dramatist might have projected it as a mere piece 
of hack work, but whatever characterization and dis- 
tinguishing features of plot it contains are in Fletcher's 
manner. The love of Luce and Jasper is, to be sure, 
purer than that usually conceived by Fletcher, but it 
is marked by the colorless sentimentality which is 
always present when he tries to depict a virtuous 
passion, while its insipidity is unrelieved by the 
poetic beauty infused by Beaumont (as the critics 
generally agree) into Bellario's love-lomness and 
Aspatia's repining moods. Again, Luce is of the 
same mold as Fletcher's heroines in her weak and 
unresisting submission to the feigned assaults of 
Jasper (3. 107-114) and in her tearful tributes to the 
memory of her lord and persecutor (4. 277-315). 
Fletcher's women, in his independent plays, are almost 
invariably either wholly vicious, or passively and im- 
perturbably meek. No one will hesitate in the classi- 
fication of Luce. So far as her relations with Jasper 
are concerned, she is the personification of meekness, 
and of a false and badly motived devotion. More- 
over, she nowhere exhibits either the resourceful, 
but virtuous, sagacity of Aspatia, or the strong self- 
assertion, combating with a sense of duty, which 
animates Evadne, or the genuine and inspiriting, if 

excessive, devotion of Euphrasia -Bellario three 

female characters in the early plays in whose deline- 
ation their creator, presumably Beaumont has shown 
an insight into woman's nature of a truth and subtlety 
nowhere manifested by Fletcher singly, and not ap- 
proached in the portrayal of Luce. 

I feel, too, that Jasper's pointless and unprovoked 
trial of Luce's fidelity (3. 73-99), and the sensational 

xxviii Introduction 

entrances and exits of the lovers in the coffin (4. 
268*861) are forced, irrational and melodramatic de- 
vices, which are akin to the many similar offenses 
in Fletcher's later dramas, but which are not notice- 
ably paralleled in the plays originating before Beau- 
mont's death. 

This ascription of the love-scenes to Fletcher is 
borne out by a metrical analysis. In the first of 
them (1. 1-65) more than half the lines contain 
double endings, the distiguishing mark of Fletcher's 
verse. In the second (8. 1-150), the proportion of 
double endings is small (84 out of 104 verses), but, 
also, there are only 19 run-on lines, which scarcity 
is indicative of Fletcher, and only 18 rimes; these 
latter, being spoken by Humphrey, are, I think, added 
by Beaumont. In the coffin-scene, 48 of the 104 
lines have double endings, only 18 are run-on, and 
there are no rimes. 

In this apportionment of Fletcher's share I agree 
with Boyle. I see no reason, however, for his addi- 
tional ascriptions to Fletcher. They consist of all the 
scenes, exclusive of Act 5, in which Humphrey appears, 
and seem to be founded on the fact that these contain 
a fair proportion of double-ending rimes ; but, as 
Oliphant points out, Boyle should have noted that 
these rimes are not (or very, very rarely) to be 
found in Fletcher, while they are not uncommon in 
Beaumont's burlesque. 

All of the play, exclusive of the love-scenes, I 
should, in the absence of sufficient evidence pointing 
to Fletcher's authorship, assign to Beaumont. A 
large part of it, some 1500 lines indeed, is in prose, 
and Fletcher's complete disuse of prose after his 
partner's death argues that Beaumont was the chief, 
if not the only, employer of it in the early plays. 

Authorship xxix 

Judging from metrical considerations, almost all of 
the verse might reasonably be assigned to Beaumont. 
Only 23.2 per cent, of the verses contains double 
endings, and this is but little more than the 20 per 
cent, which, according to Oliphant, represents Beau- 
mont's average proportion of such endings a wide 

distance from the 70 per cent, in Fletcher. The 18 
per cent, in run-on lines fairly represents Beaumont's 
liking for that metrical form. The proportion of 
rimes, a feature totally absent from Fletcher's inde- 
pendent plays, is 23.4 per cent.! 

The test of Beaumont's general literary qualities, 
when applied to this piece, leads to the same con- 
clusion as the metrical test. Beaumont's more serious 
attributes, of course, have no place in this rollicking 
comedy. His lighter, but none the less sound and 
deeply sympathetic, moods nowhere find a better 
exemplification. The prose passages are used for the 
exploitation of his gift for broad and easy caricature. 
The wholesome and genuine humor there resident 
in the conception of the Citizen and the Wife, of 
Ralph, and of the Merrythought family, has no coun- 
terpart in Fletcher's drama. The essence of Fletcher s 
comedy is merely the wit of fashionable repartee, 
a skilful and amusing battle of words. The humor 
of The Knight of the Burning Pestle is inwrought with 
the cardinal absurdities of human nature itself; it is 
vital and pervasive. 

The tendency to burlesque, which the later critics 
with one accord regard as peculiar to Beaumont, 
here finds the fullest possible exercise. Metrically, 
it is developed in the nonsensical rimes of Humphrey, 
and the swelling pentameters of Ralph. Beaumont 
had elsewhere exercised his faculty for burlesque 
characterization in The Woman Hater and The Triumph 

XXX Introduction 

df Honour, two acknowledged productions of his pen, 
and it was later to be reflected, in some sense, in 
the creation of Calianax, in The Maid's Tragedy, 
and of Bessus, in King and No King. In The Knight 
of the Burning Pestle it found its amplest expression. 
Manifestly the regular, and hence somewhat formal, 
structure of Beaumont's verse was more appropiate 
for the mock-heroic than was Fletcher's semi-collo- 
quial metre, and if there were no other grounds for 
crediting Beaumont with the present play, this would 
be significant. Macaulay says : 

The true burlesque or mock heroic, a perfectly legitimate weapon of 
the satirist when used to make absurdity more laughable, and not to 
bring noble and serious things to the level of a vulgar taste, uses nat- 
urally the grand as distinguished from the familiar style of expression ; 
accordingly Fletcher, the master of the latter style, is the last person 
from whom we should expect the burlesque, which delights in sonorous 
lines and flowing periods. . . . We find hardly a touch of it in any of 
the work which we have attributed to Fletcher alone, while of that 
which was produced during the lifetime of the younger poet it is always 
a noticeable feature^. 

In coming to my conclusion upon the authorship 
of The Knight of the Burning Pestle, 1 have been fully 
conscious of the insecurity, on the one hand, of the 
results of a fixed mechanical test as applied to the 
infinitely flexible and various nature of literary ex- 
pression, and, on the other, of the insecurity of a 
private judgment in such a matter, except as it is 
grounded on a positive scientific basis. But I can 
heartily espouse Oliphant's opinion of the mutually 
confirmatory value of these two sorts of criticism 
when properly associated. He says : 

With regard to these plays, I cannot trust any division of them . . . that 
has no better warrant than the proof afforded by the verse-tests; but I do 
think such tests give on the whole good confirmation of the correctness of 
views based on knowledge of the general style of the various dramatists*. 

* Francis Beaumont, p. 6o. 

« Tke Works of Beaumont and Fletcher, Englische Studien^ Band XIV, p.54. 

Analogues and Attributed Sources xxxi 

It is because of a faith in the approximate relia- 
bility of the conjoined methods that, with little hesi- 
tation, I ascribe the whole of The Knight of the 
Burning Pestle to Beaumont, with the exception of 
the three specified scenes which are devoted to the 
love-episodes. These I attribute to Fletcher. 

D. Analogues and Attributed Sources. 

In its conception, The Knight of the Burning Pestle 
is in a marked and peculiar sense original. Its place 
among the dramas of its age is unique and unap- 
proached. In its function as a burlesque, it is the 
only complete embodiment of a new dramatic type, 
and, from its very nature, is independent of the lead- 
ing theatrical and literary tendencies of its day, to 
all of which, indeed, it in some degree runs counter. 
Unlike the typical plays of its own authors, of Shake- 
speare, or of the other romanticists, it does not lift 
into finished dramatic expression some theme bor- 
rowed from heroic or popular legend ; on the con- 
trary, though its burlesque is by no means inclusive 
of the whole of romantic lore, its appropriations from 
the literature familiar to the times are made, not be- 
cause of their dramatic adaptability, but for the sake 
of exposing their inherent absurdities to open view. 
Unlike a typical play of Ben Jonson, the stalwart 
defender of tradition and law against a flood of in- 
novation, it is in no sense the expression of a dra- 
matic theory, nor is it a labored, arbitrary judgment 
upon the literary and social standards which it dis- 
avows ; on the contrary, its designedly loose, hit-or- 
miss construction, though resultant in a new form 
and a type all its own, is, in so far, an abnegation 
of form in the Jonsonian sense, while its satire is 
implicit in its material, not imposed by an eccentric 

xxxii Introduction 

and biased censor from without. Most of all, it is 
unlike the innumerable stage-productions of a meaner 
order, designed to attract the uncultured London 
middle-class with flattering displays of the deeds of 
their eminent representatives, or to please their childish 
fancy with some pompous but absurd extravaganza ; 
on the contrary, it depicts these untutored, but ego- 
tistical tradesmen, and their theatrical tastes, not for 
the sake of honoring them, but of exposing them 
to a salutary ridicule and reproof. In a word, its 
spirit is essentially the spirit of burlesque and the 
mock-heroic, and, as such, it is irreverent of tradition, 
of its literary material, and of its public. 

Since the play is a satire on a whole class of so- 
ciety and a whole species of literature, its constituent 
episodes are typically reflective ; they are, therefore, 
drawn merely from the general nature of its objects, 
and cannot be traced to specific and assignable 
origins. The search for its sources, then, in the 
ordinary sense of that word, would seem to be futile 
from the outset. All that can be attempted with 
security is to adduce such parallelisms from the ro- 
mances of chivalry and elsewhere as may serve to 
illustrate the satirical pertinence of the plot, always 
with the fact in mind that the various episodes in 
the play are coincident with similar themes in the 
romances rather than, in any certain sense, derivative 
from them. This study will also involve the exam- 
ination of certain attributions of sources for the 
play which have been more or less emphathically 
made ever since its first appearance. 

1. The Romances of Chivalry and Don Quixote. 
It is an assertion which is frequently encountered, 
and which, so far as I know, has never been con- 

Analogues and Attrihuud Sanrus zxxiu 

tradicted, that Beaumont drew his idea for Tlu Kmyht 
of the Burning Pestle, and much of his materiaL Greedy 
from Don Quixote. Now, of comse, die commtmity 
in spirit between the play and Cervantes' great bur- 
lesque is so apparent that he who nms mar read. 
The objects of their satire are the same : their meth- 
ods of developing a humorous situation dirougfa 

bringing into ludicrous juxtaposition tbt common- 
place realities of life and the high-flying idealisms of 

knight-errantry are the same; and. moreover, a 

few of the incidents are remarkably alike. But these 
similarities are the natural outcome of allied purposes 
in the two works ; they do not of themselves argue 
any interdependence whatever. To prove that Beau- 
mont fashioned his play upon the novel would 
involve the necessity of proving that he could not 
have drawn the hint for his episodes from the ro- 
mances of chivalry themselves quite as easily as 
from Don Quixote, and that his burlesque conception 
could not have been original Moreover, it would 
be necessary to show that he was acquainted with 
the Spanish language, for in 1610. the date of the 
play*s composition, he could have read the novel 
only in the original, since the first English translation 
was not printed until 1612. Let us examine these 
difficulties standing in the way of the assumption 
that Don Quixote is the source of our play. 

The large indebtedness of Beaumont and Fetcher 
to Spanish literature is undeniable. According to 
Miss O. L. Hatcher^, the latest investigator to publish 
a treatment on the dramatists' sources, * of the thirty- 
four plays whose sources are already known, either 
entirely or in part seventeen draw upon Spanish 
material.* Within this number, however, the author 

> /akm Flrtcktr, A Study m Dramatic Method, 1905, p. 47. 

xxxiv Introduction 

includes The Knight of the Burning Pestle. Setting 
aside this ascription for the moment, the remaining 
sixteen plays can be shown to have been derived 
from Spanish works which were, at the time of the 
pla}^'s composition, existent in English or French 
translations^. They cannot, therefore, be adduced 
as evidence that Beaumont and Fletcher knew Spanish. 
It remains to examine the possibility of their having 
known the Spanish original of Don Quixote. A pointed, 
though of course not conclusive, evidence that they 
did not know this original is the statement of Burre, 
the first publisher of The Knight of the Burning Pestle : 

Perhaps it will be thought to bee of the race of Don Quixote : 
we both may confidently swear, it is his elder aboue a yeere ; and 
therefore may (by yertue of his birth-right) challenge the wall of him. 

As I have elsewhere shown, Burre alludes to Shel- 
ton's English translation of Don Quixote^ which ap- 
peared in 1612, and to the fact that our play was 
written in 1611 or 1610. Manifestly the publisher 
was not aware of the authors* possessing any knowl- 
edge of Spanish, and he emphatically denies any 
dependence of the play upon Don Quixote. Of course, 
Burre may not have been fully informed as to the 
dramatists* linguistic attainments, and his denial of 
the alleged source cannot be taken as proof; but 
in the absence of any positive evidence to support 
the opposite contention, its significance must be rec- 
ognized. There is absolutely nothing to show that 
Beaumont and Fletcher knew Spanish, and in discus- 
sions of the matter the burden of proof rests upon 
those who assert that they did know it; moreover, 
those who make this assertion must meet the difficulty 
of disproving the presumptive evidence that the 

^ Dr. Rudolph Scherill of Yale Uniyersity has kindly informed me of 
this fact 

Analogues and Attributed Sources 


dramatists drew their Spanish plots from English and 
French translations. Of the details of this evidence 
I am not exactly informed^, but so far as regards 
The Knight of the Burning Pestle^ I have become con- 
fident, after careful examination, that its authors wrote 
it in complete independence of its accredited source, 
D(m Quixote. This independence is witnessed by the 
significant omission of some of the most salient 
features of the Spanish novel, and, more positively 
still, by a resemblance between the play*s episodes 
and the romances which is demonstrably greater than 
that between the play and Don Quixote. I shall now 
set forth these parallelisms in some detail. 

It will be best to list the features in Don Quixote 
and the play which are approximately coincident, and 
then to consider the assumed dependence of the 
play upon the novel in view of the larger area of 
chivalric romance itself. The most specific exposition 
of the Don Quixote theory was made in 1885 by Dr. 
Leonhardt, who published at Annaberg, Germany, in 
that year, a monograph entitled Vher Beaumont und 
Fletcher's Knight of the Burning Pestle^ in which he 
set forth the following parallels between the play 
and the novel: 

a. Ralph's adoption of a squire : Don Quixote's en- 
gagement of Sancho Panza. 

b. Ralph's rescue of Mistress Merrythought : Don 
Quixote's rescue of the Biscayan lady. 

c. Ralph's adventures at the inn: Don Quixote's 
similar adventures at an inn. 

d. The barber's basin: the 'helmet of Mambrino.' 

e. The liberation of the barber's patients : the lib- 
eration of the galley-slaves. 

^ Again, I have depended upon the conclusions of Dr. ScheYill, who 
has made a careiiil study of the question. 

c 2 

xxxvi Introduction 

f. Ralph*s fidelity to Susan before Pompiona : Don 
Quixote's fidelity to Dulcinea before Maritomes. 

g. The conception of Susan: the conception of 
Dulcinea del Toboso. 

Now when The Knight of the Burning Pestle and Don 
Quixote are compared without reference to the ro- 
mances which are the common object of their bur- 
lesq.ue, some of these resemblances are undeniably 
strong; but others are trivial, and all of them are 
deprived of significance when set beside the more 
striking parallels to the play to be found within the 
romances themselves, or when set against the differ- 
ences between the play and the novel in their local 
backgrounds. Let us examine Leonhardt's points in 
the above order. 

a. The Adoption of a Squire. In Act 1, 1. 289 Ralph 
says : 

Haue you heard of any that hath wandered vnfumished of his squire 
and dwarf? My elder prentice Ttm shall be my trusty squire, and 
little George my dwarf. 

Leonhardt calls up Don Quixote's engagement of 
Sancho Panza as his squire (Bk. 1, chap. 7), and cites 
it as evidence of the play's dependence on the novel. 
As a matter of fact, the situations involved are en- 
tirely dissimilar. Ralph is merely a swaggering pren- 
tice-boy, who is fully conscious of playing a part, 
and, out of his knowledge of knight-errantry, claps 
up a swift bargain, whereby his two underlings in 
the grocer's shop become his chivalric attendants. 
Don Quixote, on the other hand, is a deluded old 
visionary, who enters upon his harebrained undertak- 
ing in perfect seriousness, and who, moreover, has 
to dicker a long time with his slow-witted neighbor 
before he can persuade him to the enterprise. Be- 
yond these differences, there is the widest imaginable 

Analogues and Attributed Sources xxxvii 

contrast between the sprightly juvenile errants who 
follow Ralph, and the ponderous and unwilling Sancho. 
Moreover, Don Quixote desires only a squire, while 
Ralph calls for a squire and a dw£uf. This notion 
of a double attendance could not have been derived 
from Don Quixote. It was taken directly from the 
romances. An illustration of it may be found, for 
example, in Amadis of Gaul and Palmerin de Oliva, 
two continental romances which Jiad become exceed- 
ingly popular in England through Anthony Munday*s 
translation of the first two books of the former in 
1595, and of the whole of the latter in 1588-97. 
There is continual mention of Amadis* squire, Gan- 
dalin, and his dwarf, Ardian. Palmerin de 01iva*s 
only constant attendant is his dwarf, Urbanillo, but 
he is also accompanied, on certain occasions, by 
one, and sometimes more than one, esquire. A con- 
spicuous example is to be found in Part 1, chap. 16. 
Palmerin is preparing to go forth to slay a horrible 
serpent, when he is addressed by the Princess Aris- 

I shall yet desire you, said the Princess, that for my sake you will 
take with you three Esquires which I will give you, which may send 
you succour if any inconvenience should befall you. Then she called 
the Esquires, and presented them unto him. . . . Then he commanded 
the Esquires and his Dwarfe Urbanillo^ to expect his return at the 
foot of the Mountaine. 

The passage is typical, and is far more nearly par- 
allel to the situation in our play than is Don Quixote. 
One may reject, then, as untenable, Leonhardt's 
assumption that the conception of Ralph's squire and 
dwarf was inspired by that of Sancho Panza. These 
characters bear no significant likeness to their ac- 
credited prototype ; on the contrary, they present a 
marked disparity to him. The only analogous figures 
are to be found in the romances themselves. In the 

xxxviii Introduction 

persons of Tim and George, Beaumont is merely bur- 
lesquing one of the recurrent features of the romantic 
machinery, and I see no reason for doubting that he 
is so doing in complete independence of Cervantes. 

b. The Rescue of Mrs. Merrythought. Near the be- 
g^inning of Act 2 (1. 105), Ralph enters Waltham Forest 
in search of adventures, and there chances upon 
Mrs. Merrythought and little Michael. The poor 
woman is naturally, frightened at the grotesque ap> 
pearance of the supposititious knight, and is made 
to cry out: *Oh, Michael, we are betrayed, we are 
betraj^ed! here be giants! Fly, boy! fly, boy, fly!' 
She runs out with Michael, leaving a casket of jewels 
behind her. Ralph immediately assumes that the boy 
is some ^uncourteous knight,' from whose embrace 
a ^gentle lady' is flying, and swears to rescue her. 
He overtakes Mrs. Merrythought, and learns of the 
loss of the casket, upon the quest of which he 
straightway sets out, but he is soon diverted from 
the quest by the adventure on behalf of Humphrey, 
and later by his combat with the barber-giant. 

Leonhardt asserts, without vouchsafing the slightest 
reason for so doing, that this episode originated from 
Don Quixote's chivalrous defense of a lady in Bk. 1, 
chap. 7. It will be recalled that, in the Spanish 
novel, two peaceable friars of St. Benet's order are 
traveling along a highroad, followed by a coach in 
which rides a certain Biscayan lady, of whom, however, 
they are unconscious. Don Quixote, espying them, 
calls out to his squire : 

Either I am deceived, or else this will proye the most famous ad- 
venture that hath been seen ; for these two great black hulks, which 
appear there, are, questionless, enchanters, that steal or carry sway 
perforce, some princess in that coach ; and therefore I must, with all 
my power, undo that wrong ^. 

^ Shelton's trans. 

Anakgues and Attributed Sources xxxix 

Therewith the deranged old hidalgo sets upon the 
friars, who, as soon as they are able, take to their 
heels in terror. The Don then becomes embroiled 
with one of the Biscayan lackeys, who objects to 
this stoppage of the progress of his mistress. Don 
Quixote overcomes his opponent in the fight, and 
grants him his life only on condition that he go 
and offer his services to the Lady Dulcinea. 

It ought to be perfectly patent that there is no 
necessary connection whatever between these epi- 
sodes. There is no similarity of sufficient importance 
to warrant the supposition that the one suggested 
the other. Their qualifying features, their develop- 
ments, and their issues are totally imlike. They are 
allied only in the fact that their creators are both 
turning into ridicule one of the most persistent motives 

to be foimd in chivalric romance the interminable 

rescues of 'gentle ladies' who find themselves in 
distressing predicaments through the wiles of ' un- 
courteous knights ' and wicked enchanters. I see no 
reason for assuming, on the basis of mere corres- 
pondence in purpose, that Beaumont derived a typical 
romantic theme like this from a dissimilar development 
of the theme in Cervantes, or, for that matter, that 
he had ever heard of Cervantes* episode. 

The significant outcome of Ralph's meeting with 
Mrs. Merrythought is the ' great venture of the purse 
and the rich casket.' It should be remarked that 
there are no ^ adventures of the casket ' in Don Quixote. 
Here, again, our comedy is dependent directly upon 
the romances, wherein such quests are not infrequent. 
Since Palmerin de Oliva is shown, from the definite 
allusions to it, to have been prominently in Beaumont's 
mind as an object of the burlesque, it is possible 
that Mrs. Merrythought's ill luck is suggested by the 

xl Introduction 

incidents in chap. 21 of that book, which relates 
^how Palmerin and Ptolome met with a Damosell, 
who made great mone for a Casket which two Knights 
had forcibly taken from her, and what happened to 
them.' ' What happened to them, ' of course, was their 
complete overthrow by the avenging knights, who 
restored the stolen treasure to its lamenting owner. 

This derivation, however, is a conjecture of my 
own. It is more likely, according to my interpretation 
of the play, that here again Beaumont is merely 
hitting off a typical feature of the narrative machinery 
common to all the romances, and that no specific 
incident is assignable as his source. 

c. The Inn-scenes. Ralph's adventures at the inn in 
Waltham must be acknowledged to bear a striking 
resemblance to certain features of similar incidents 
in Don Quixote, and to be without a close parallel in 
the romances. This being the case, it is a natural 
conjecture that Beaumont here had Cervantes in mind. 
Let us, however, examine these analogous situations 
somewhat closely. 

It will be remembered that Don Quixote, when he 
first sallies forth on adventures, comes to an inn, 
which he feigns to himself as 'a castle with four 
turrets, whereof the pinnacles were of glistering 
silver, without omitting the drawbridge, deep fosse, 
and other adherents belonging to the like places' 
(Bk. 1, chap. 2). The host at this tavern quickly 
sees the mental condition of his guest, and gives 
him lodging without charges. 

A closer parallel to Ralph's adventures at the Bell 
Inn is to be found in the first three chapters of Bk. 8. 
Don Quixote and Sancho Panza chance upon an 
inn, which to the Don straightway becomes a won- 
drous castle, but which the squire stoutly maintains 

Analogues and Attributed Sources xli 

to be an inn, and only an inn. During their sojourn 
at this hostelry, the knight becomes involved in a 
number of strange adventures which have no coun- 
terpart in our play. The parallel resides, first, in the 
fact that Don Quixote imagines the inn to be a 
castle, just as George, the dwarf (2. 897-8), feigns 
before our errant adventurers to have discovered, not 
a stone's cast off. 

An ancient Castle held by the old Knight 
Of the most holy order of the Bell ; 

and secondly, in the corresponding manner in which 
the two heroes receive the reckoning of their hosts 
for the night's lodging. 

Both Don Quixote and Ralph offer profuse thanks 
for their entertainment: 

And, being both mounted thus a-horseback [i. e. Don Quixote and 
Sancho Panza], he called the innkeeper, and said unto him, with a 
grave and staid voice : ' Many and great are the favours, sir constable, 
which I have received in this your castle, and do remain most obliged 
to gratify you for them all the days of my life.' 

With this, compare Ralph's speech to 'the knight of 
the most holy order of the Bell ' (8. 160-8) : 

We render thankes to your puissant self, 
Your beauteous Lady, and your gentle squires, 
For thus refreshing of our wearied limbs. 
Stiffened with hard achievements in wild desert. 

This close correspondence might seem forcibly 
indicative of the play's dependence upon the novel ; 
but the speeches of Ralph, as above, are filled with 
the stock phrases of Munday's translations, which do 
not belong to the language of Don Quixote; while, 
in their developments, the episodes diverge from 
each other radically. Don Quixote offers to recom- 
pense the favors accorded him in these words: 

And if I may pay or recompense them by revenging of you upon 
any proud miscreant that hath done you any wrongs, know that it is 
mine office to help the weak, to revenge the wronged, and to chastise 

xlii Introduction 

traitors. Call therefore to memory, and if yoa find anything of this 
kind to commend to my correction, you need not but once to say it ; 
for I do promise you, by the order of knighthood which I have re- 
ceived, to satisfy and apay you according to your own desire. 

There is no resemblance to this offer in Ralph*s pro- 
posal (8. 185-8): 

But to requite this liberal curtesie, 

If any of your squires will follow arms. 

He shall receive from my heroic hand 

A knighthood, by the virtue of this pestle. 

In each case, the host insists upon payment, but 
Ralph pretends to ignore the bill, as though it were 
a matter unintelligible to him. It is very apparent 
that here again Ralph is fully conscious of playing 
a part, and that his steady obtuseness is due to his 
excess of histrionic zeal. The poor old Don, on the 
other hand, awakens to a realization that he has 
been mistaken about his surroundings. Upon the 
hosf s urging his suit for the charges, 

* This, then, is an inn ? * quoth Don Quixote. * That it is, and an 
honorable one too, ' replied the innkeeper. * Then have I hitherto lived 
in an error,* quoth Don Quixote, 'for, in very good sooth, I took it 
till now to be a castle, and that no mean one neither. * 

The situations diverge still further in their final 
outcomes. In the novel, there is no payment at alL 
Don Quixote appeals to the immemorial right of 
knights-errant to partake of entertainment without cost 

*" All that concerns me nothing, * replied the innkeeper. * Pay unto 
me thy due, and leave these tales and knighthoods apart; for I care 
for nothing else but how I may come by my own. ' * Thou art a mad 
and a bad host, * quoth Don Quixote. And, saying so, he spurred 
Rozinante, and flourishing with his javelin, he issued out of the inn 
in despite of them all, and, without looking behind him to see once 
whether his squire followed, he rode a good way o£f from it 

Thereupon the innkeeper applies to Sancho Panza 
for the money, who refuses to give it, pleading that 
'the very same rule and reason that exempted his 
master from paj^ments in inns and taverns ought also 

Analogues and Attributed Sources xliii 

to serve and be understood as well of him. ' As a 
result of his unresponsiveness, Sancho is tossed in 
a blanket, and his wallets are taken from him as the 
only available return for the lodging. 

In The Knight of the Burning Pestle the solution of 
the difficulty is wholly unlike this, and is assuredly 
unique. The Knight of the Bell Inn, in a manner 
more courteous, though not less insistent, than that 
of Don Quixote's host, says (3. 189-191) : 

Fair knight, I thank you for your noble o£fer: 

Therefore, gentle knight, 

Twelye shillings you most pay, or I must cap you. 

Thereupon, Ralph's solicitous master, the onlooking 
grocer, who fears that his apprentice is in actual danger, 
triumphantly holds out the money, and gives the 
innkeeper to understand that he cannot ^ cap, ' i. e. 
arrest, Ralph now. This easy, though singular, dis- 
missal of the situation is not derived from Don Quixote. 
It will be readily granted that, even if Beaumont 
did draw the idea of the inn-scenes from Cervantes, 
his development of it is independent and original. 
But what reason is there for presuming that he so 
derived it ? Is not its employment a very logical issue 
of the conditions of the play, and may not the con- 
ception of it, therefore, have been wholly original 
with its author? Ralph, with his squire, his dwarf. 
Mistress Merrythought, and Michael, is wandering 
about in the uninhabited Waltham Forest in search 
of food and a resting-place. Suddenly the party 
emerge into the open, and find themselves at the 
end of Waltham Town, where is situated a tavern 
called the Bell Inn (2. 393). This is a local touch 
which does not have the least connection with Don 
Quixote. It is very natural and probable that the Bell 
Inn should be so situated, and it is merely a logical 

xliv Introduction 

outcome of the whole purpose of the burlesque that 
it should be hailed as a castle, the only sort of 
habitation, aside from caves and dungeons, which 
has any conspicuous place in the romances. Equally 
in keeping with the burlesque is it that the host 
should be regarded as the castle's knightly owner. 
I see no reason why, in the logic of the movement, 
this feature of the play should not have been con- 
ceived in complete independence of Don Quixote. 
Furthermore, the ascription of the source of the scene 
to the novel seems nullified by the thoroughly Eng- 
lish and local tone of the dwarfs account of the 
castle and its inmates: the Knight of the Bell and 
his squires, Chamberlino, Tapstero, and Ostlero. There 
are no characters of this stamp at the inn in Doti Quixote. 
A reference to the notes will show how typically 
English are these functionaries, particularly the ostler. 

And for Ralph's assumed ignorance of the purport 
of the reckoning, the well-known poverty of knights- 
errant, and the free hospitality everywhere accorded 
them, together with the almost complete lack of a 
mention of their monetary possessions in the roman- 
ces, form a sufficient explanation. The similarity 
between the play and the novel in this circumstance 
is, of course, remarkable, but, as in other coincidences 
already treated, it seems to me to be easily referable 
to the common object of their burlesque, and not 
to present any sure evidence whatever of a direct 
relation between them. 

In a word, the differences between the inn-scenes 
in Don Quixote and in The Knight of the Burning Pestle j 
both in local color and in particular developments, 
are so great as strongly to impair the probability of 
the novel being, in this instance, the source of the 
play, while in the play the requirements of the situ- 

Analogues and Attributed Sources xlv 

ation are in themselves sufficient to have produced 
the episode. This, the most considerable parallel 
between the two burlesques, still further loses signif- 
icance in view of the case of other parallels, alleged 
to be connectives, which are yet to be touched upon. 

d. The Barber's Basin. Leonhardt assumes that, 
because a barber's basin happens to play a small 
part in our comedy, its appearance was suggested 
by the like vessel which Don Quixote forces from 
a traveling barber, who is wearing it on his head 
to protect himself from the rain (Bk. 3, chap. 7). Don 
Quixote looks upon his capture as an inestimable 
prize, since he is under the delusion that it is the 
famous helmet of Mambrino, for the possession of 
which he has long cherished a desire. 

Leonhardt's tracing of a connection between this 
fanciful helmet and the barber's bowl in our play is 
certainly far-fetched and ridiculous. In Don Quixote^ 
the barber's basin is an important feature in the adven- 
tures of the hero ; in our play, the corresponding 
vessel is an insignificant detail. The host mentions 
it in his description of Barboroso's cell, i. e. the 
barber's shop (3. 263), and Ralph directs his squire 
to knock upon it in order to summon the giant to 
his account (3. 351). There is no similarity whatever 
between the uses made of the basins, or the circum- 
stances surrounding them, or the attitude of the 
characters toward them. To Don Quixote the imple- 
ment is a gorgeous helmet; to Ralph and his com- 
panions it is merely a basin, and always a basin, and 
never gives the least suggestion of any part of a 
knight's armor, beyond the fact that the host says 
that it hangs upon a ' prickant spear,' i. e. the barber's 
pole. No one in the play has any quixotic delusions 
about the bowl. It remains throughout merely a 

xlvi Introduction 

barber's implement. That it should have been mem- 
tioned among the other furnishings of the barber's 
shop is perfectly natural. The fact has no reference 
to Don Quixote whatever. We may reject as wire- 
drawn and absurd Leonhardt's assumption that there 
is a relationship between the specified incidents. 

e. The Liberation of the Barber's Patients. Here, 
again, Leonhardt thinks he sees a connection with 
Don Quixote. He traces the source of this scene to 
the release of the galley-slaves. In Bk. 3, chap. 8, 
the Knight of La Mancha and his squire come upon 
a chain of convicts, who have been forced by the 
king to go to the galleys. Don Quixote accosts one 
of the guardians, and demands of him to allow each 
of his charges to give an account of his conviction. 
The manner in which each of the culprits describes 
the cause of his captivity is parallel, in general, to 
the accounts of their misfortunes which Ralph draws 
from the recipients of his good offices. The answers 
are in some sort humorous, made with an evident 
realization of Don Quixote's mental state, just as the 
knights in our play attime their speeches to the 
imaginings of their fantastic interrogator. The first 
of the galley-slaves has been convicted for love, too 
much love, though it be for *a basket well heaped 
with fine linen;' the second is paying the penalty 
of ^singing in anguish,' which is interpreted to the 
Don as the confession wrung from the wretch upon 
the rock that he delighted in being 'a stealer of 
beasts ; ' the third is going to the Lady Garrupes for 

five years because he wanted ten ducats and got 

them, in a manner which proved disastrous ; the fourth 
is condemned as a bawd; &c. &c. When he has 
received the varied accounts, Don Quixote addresses 
the slaves in this fashion : 

Analogues and Attributed Sources xlvii 

I have gathered oat of all that which yon have said, dear brethren, 
that although they punish you for your faults, yet that the pains you 
go to suffer do not very well please you, and that you march toward 
them with a very ill will, and wholly constrained. ... All which 
doth present itself to my memory in such sort, as it pcrsuadeth, yea, 
and enforceth me, to e£fect that for you for which hearen sent me into 
the world, and made me profess that order of knighthood which I follow, 
and that tow which I made therein to &YOur and assist the needful, 
and those that are oppressed by others more patent 

Upon the refusal of the guardians to Uberate the 
prisoners peaceably, Don Quixote assaults one of 
them so suddenly with his lance that he completely 
overcomes him. During the ensuing skirmish between 
the Don and the other guards, the slaves break their 
chain and put their keepers to rout Don Quixote 
then commands them to go and present themselves 
before his lady Dulcinea del Toboso, and recount to 
her the adventure he had that day accomplished in 
her name ; at which preposterous suggestion the 
slaves fall upon the Knight and Sancho with stones, 
and then leave them, overwhelmed with wounds and 

There is, indeed, a very slight resemblance to this 
episode in Ralph's magnanimous behavior toward the 
barber-giant*s supposed captives. But, once again, 
it is far more probable that the likeness arises through 
the common objects of the burlesque than through 
any use of Cervantes* material by Beaumont. In 
the first place, the one element of real similarity, 
the questioning of released prisoners, is such a com- 
mon motive in the romances themselves that it is 
altogether gratuitous to regard Don Quixote as the 
inspiration of its employment in the scene in question. 
I need only cite a few instances from Palmerin of 
England. In Part 1, chap. 28, after the knight of the 
Savage Man had rescued from the giant Calfumio 
some imprisoned damsels, ^ their great courtesy liked 

xlviii Introduction 

him so well, that he was loth to do anything they 
should mislike of: Wherefore sitting talking with 
them, he desired them that without offence he might 
demand their names and country, and by what mishap 
they chanced into the giant's government?' Upon 
this request, Artinalda, one of the damsels, relates 
their history. In chap. 32, Palmerin discovers his 
squire Seliam in the hands of brigands. Palmerin 
puts the ruffians to death or flight, 'which done, he 
cut the cords with which Seliam was tied, requesting 
him to report how he chanced into that mishap.* In 
chap. 42, the knights rescued from the giant Dramu- 
ziando send Prince Floraman to the King of England 
with the tidings of their release. Upon the king's 
questioning Floraman concerning the adventure, 
' Floraman rehearsed the whole state of their impris- 
onment, from the first to the last, with the contin- 
uance of accidents happening in that time.' In 
Part 2, chap. 125, the knight of the Damsels, after 
he had rescued a certain maiden from the hands of 
some villainous knights, ' questioned with the damsel, 
how she happened into that place, and upon what 
occasion the knights so sought to force her.' She 
relpied in the customary manner, giving a detailed 
account of the circumstance, and beginning in this 
characteristic manner : ' Sir, I was bom in this coun- 
try, and am somewhat of kin to the lady Miraguarda,' 
&c. And so one might go on, citing instance after 
instance from the romances which of themselves 
would furnish sufficient explanation for Ralph's 
examination of the prisoners, without any reference 
to Don Quixote. 

When we regard the more essential elements of 
the scene in the play, we see a still greater inde- 
pendence of the novel. In The Knight of the Burning 

Analogues and Attributed Sources xiix 

Pestle, there are no traveling slaves, and no abuse 
of R^ph and his attendants by the recipients of his 
benefactions. On the other hand, Dan Quixote contains 
no cave, no giant, and no incarcerated victims — and 
these are the really important features in the play. 

Once again, one must turn, not to Cervantes, but 
to the romances, for the parallels which suggested 
Beaumont's episode. It would be hazardous to assert 
that the adventure to which Ralph here commits 
himself is founded upon any single incident in the 
romances. The old tales are replete with rescues of 
prisoners from the caves and castles of evil-minded 
giants and sorcerers. At the beginning of Palmerin 
of England, for example, Don Duardo is taken captive 
by the giant Dramuziando. The heroes who first 
attempt to liberate him are foiled, and some of them 
are themselves made prisoners. The climax of the 
action in Part 1 is the conquest of the giant and the 
rescue of his victims by Palmerin. Similar engage- 
ments with giants are countless. None of them, 
however, so far as I have discovered, present parallels 
to our play which are exact enough to entitle them 
to be regarded as sources. 

An extended use of the cave- or dungeon-motive 
is to be found in Amadis of Gaul, Bk. 1, chaps. 19 
and 20. Amadis arrives at the castle of Arcalaus, 
the enchanter. Entering one of the courts, he espies 
a dark place, with steps that go under ground. The 
narrative proceeds thus: 

Amadis went down the steps so far that he could see nothing ; he 
came to a plain ground, it was utterly dark, yet he proceeded, and 
groping along a wall felt a bar of iron, whereto there hung a key, 
and be opened the padlock of the gate. . . . Anon more than a 
hundred voices were heard crying aloud. Lord God send us death and 
deliver us 1 Thereat was Amadis greatly astonished*. 

* Southey's trans. 


1 Introduction 

Presently he discovers the prisoners' guards, whom 
he engages in combat so successfully that of them 
all only two escape death, and that only by falling 
at his feet for mercy. 

Shew me then the prisoners 1 said Amadis : they led the way. Who 
lies here } said he, hearing a lamentable voice from a cell. A lady, 
said they, in great torment 

Needless to relate, he rescues the lady, who, in the 
approved fashion, tells him of her lineage, and is led 
from the prison. After returning to the upper court, 
Amadis is for a time held in the spell of the enchanter 
Arcalaus. Upon recovering himself, he puts on a 
suit of armor and goes to deliver Gandalin, his squire, 
who has meanwhile been imprisoned. 

The men of Arcalaus seeing him thus armed, ran all ways ; but he 
descended the steps, and through the wall where he had slain the jaylor, 
and so to the dungeon : a dreadful place it was for the captives : in length 
an hundred times as far as a man's spread arms can reach ; one only and 
a half of that span wide ; dark, for neither light nor air could enter, and so 
full that it was crowded. . . . but then the dwarf knew his [i. e. Gandalin's] 
voice, and answered. Here we arel Thereat greatly rejoicing, Amadis 
went to the lamp in the hall, and kindled torches and took them to 
the dungeon, and loosed Gandalin's chains, and bade him deliver his 
comrades. They came from the dungeon, an hundred and fifteen men 
in all, of whom thirty were knights, and they followed Amadis, ex* 
claiming, O fortunate knight I . . . Christ give thee thy reward I and, 
when they came to the sun-light and open sky, they fell upon their 
knees, and with lifted hands blest God who had given that knight 
strength to their deliverance. 

I have quoted this incident from Amadis, not be- 
cause I regard it as an immediate source of the cave- 
scene in our play, but because it well illustrates the 
fact that Beaumont, in his use of an episode dealing 
with a cave and prisoners, is simply burlesquing a 
typical and recurrent feature of the romances of 
chivalry. It is a feature, moreover, which has no 
analogy, as has been pointed out, in the attributed 
source in Don Quixote. Here, as elsewhere, Beaumont 

Analogues and Attributed Sources H 

drew, not from Cervantes, but directly from the ro- 
mances themselves. 

f. Ralph's Fidelity to Susan before Pompiona. In 
Act 4, 11. 108-9, the Princess Pompiona is represented 
as trying to persuade Ralph to wear her favor in his 
shield. He refuses, because she * trusts in Antichrist, 
and false traditions.* He says also : 

Besides, I have a lady of my own 
In merry England, for whose virtuous sake 
I took these arms ; and Susan is her name, 
A cobbler*s maid in Milk-street ; whom I vow 
Ne>r to forsake whilst life and Pestle last 

Leonhardt seems to think that Ralph's faithfulness 
to Susan is reflected from Don Quixote*s staunch 
fidelity to Dulcinea before the imagined loveliness 
of Maritomes, who is a kitchen-wench at the inn 
(Bk. 3, chap. 3), and who is ' broad-faced, flat-pated, 
saddle-nosed, blind of an eye, and the other almost 
out/ The crazed old hidalgo receives this charmer 
as ' a goddess of love between his arms,' though he 
resists complete captivation through reflecting on 
Dulcinea, telling Maritomes that it is impossible to 
yield to her love, because, as he says, ' of the prom- 
ised faith which I have given to the unmatchable 
Dulcinea of Toboso, the only lady of my most hidden 
thoughts; for did not this let me, do not hold me 
to be so senseless and mad a knight as to overslip 
so fortunate an occasion as this your bounty hath 
offered to me.' 

Here, again, Leonhardt stretches a point in order 
to find in the play a derivation from the novel. 
Pompiona is always a princess of high degree, in- 
habiting a magnificent castle, and is so depicted. 
Maritomes is nothing but a vulgar, obscene kitchen- 
wench, bent, when accosted by Don Quixote, upon 
a secret intrigue with a carrier at the inn, and is so 

d 2 

Hi Introduction 

depicted. Pompiona can by no possibility have been 
suggested by Maritomes, while the fidelity of Ralph 
and the Don to their plighted lady-loves is a reflec- 
tion from their common original, the romances, and 
in no sense argues a connection between the play 
and the novel. 

The whole of Ralph*s adventures at the court of 
Pompiona's father, the King of Moldavia, find an ap- 
proximate analogy ^ indeed, not in any portion of 
Don Quixote, but in a situation in Palmerin de Oliva 
which is thoroughly typical of the romances. The 
eighth chapter of the second book of that romance 
is entitled, 'How the Princesse Ardemia, enduring 
extreame Passions and torments in Love, made offer 
of her affections to Palmerin, which he refused : 
wherewith the Princesse (through extreme conceit 
of griefe and despaire) suddenly dyed. '• Ardemia is 
a companion of Alchidiana, daughter of the Sultan 
of Babylon, to whose court the fortunes of Palmerin 
have brought him. The amorous suits of this Prin- 
cess are indeed much more insistent and long-winded 
than Pompiona's, and the result of their failure is 
much more violent, but there are a few resemblances 
which are of value as illustrating the satirical point 
in our scene. 

In much the same manner as Pompiona urges Ralph 
to receive a ' favor, ' Ardemia presents Palmerin with 
a diamond, saying : 

O sweet Friend, and onely comfort of my Soule, let me intreat 
you to weare this as an argument of my love, thereby to know how 
well I esteeme you, assuring you that I am so devoted yours: as if 
you vouchsafe to grant me the favor and honor as to goe with me 
to the court of my Father, I never will have any other Husband but 

^ An analogous situation is to be found, also, in the fidelity of Amadis 
to Oriana before the love-smitten Briolania, in AmcuLies of Gaul^ Bk. I, 
chaps. 40, 50. Other analogies might be cited by the score. 
' Munday's trans. 

Analogues and Attributed Sources liii 

you, and there shall such account be made of you, as well beseems 
a Knight so noble and vertuous. 

More relevant, however, to Ralph's adventure is 
the manner in which Palmerin receives Ardemia's 
advances. Just as Ralph refuses to wear the favor 
of Pompiona, because she trusts in Antichrist, Palmerin 
is repelled by the fact that Ardemia is a pagan : 

Palmerin, amazed at this strange accident, because she was a Pagan, 
and contrary to him in faith, therefore made no answer, but . . . started 
from her sudainly, and being moved with displeasure, departed the 

And as Ralph calls his Susan to mind before Pompiona, 
so Palmerin fortifies himself, after having fled from 
Ardemia, by invoking his absent lady-love, saying : 

Ah sweet Mistresse, succour now your Servant, for I rather desire 
a thousand deaths, then to violate the chaste honour of my Love, or 
to give that favour to this Lady which in only yours. 

After Ardemia has died of grief because of Pal- 
merin's refusal of her love, her companion Alchidiana, 
daughter of the Sultan, falls in love with the hero, 
and plies him with amorous suits, which also he 
evades (chap. 13). Just as Pompiona requires of 
Ralph his name and birth, Alchidiana thus addresses 
Palmerin : 

1 desire you Sir Knight by the reverence you beare our Gods, and 
the faith you owe to her, for whose louc you tookc the Enchanted 
Crowne from the Prince Maurice, to tell mc your name, what your 
parents be, and of whence you are. For I sweare to you by the 
honour of a Princesse, that the guerdon you shall receive in so doing, 
is my heart, having once conquered those desires that long haue tor- 
mented me : intending to make you Lord of myself, and all the 
possessions of the Soldane my Father, without any sinister meaning 
you may believe me. 

Then just as Ralph responds : ' My name is Ralph, ' &c., 
Palmerin replies to the inquiries of Alchidiana : 

My name is Palmerin D*01iva, and what my parents, the Queen of 
Tharsus within these three days will tell mc more than hitherto I 
could understand by any, when you shall haue more knowledge of 

liv Introduction 

my estate and Country also : but so farre as I yet can gather by mine 
own understandings my Descent is from Persia. 

Palmerin is here, it should be said, deceiving Alchid- 
iana into believing him a Persian, since he does 
not wish to cause her immediate dissolution by dis- 
closing to her that he is a Christian, and that his 
heart is already bound to a Christian lady. 

The only conclusion to be derived from such a 
comparison as that just made is that Beaumont is 
merely burlesquing the general features of recurrent 
amours in the romances, whereby designing prin- 
cesses attempt to lure the knights away from their 
chosen lady-loves. It may plausibly be surmised, 
though not confidently asserted, that he drew the 
idea of the scene at the Court of Moldavia from 
Palmerin de Oliva. He assuredly did not draw it from 
Don Quixote. There is no significant resemblance 
between Ralph's behavior towards Pompiona and the 
Don's behavior toward Maritomes at the inn. 

g. Susan, the lady-love of Balph. Leonhardt implies 
that Dulcinea del Toboso is the prototype of Susan. 
This, of course, is mere conjecture. It seems based 
simply on the fact that the two damsels belong to 
a humble station in life. Susan is a ' cobbler's maid 
in Milk-street, ' while Dulcinea, it will be remembered, 
is a country-wench, and is chiefly commendable for 
her skill in the salting of pork. In each instance, it 
is a fitting issue of the mock-heroic purpose that a 
lowly maiden should be represented as the lady-love 
of the burlesque knight, and should be given a 
grotesque and incongruous elevation. In the absence 
of any definable line of connection between Susan 
and Dulcinea, there is no reason for presuming that 
Beaumont may not of his own accord have hit upon 
this very pertinent conception. 

Analogues and Attributed Sources Iv 

Furthermore, there is a distinct difference between 
Cervantes' and Beaumont's conceptions. However 
humble and even coarse to the world at large Dul- 
cinea may be, to Don Quixote she is always and 
everywhere a beautiful and lofty lady, whom he ab- 
jectly worships. On the other hand, however chival- 
rous Ralph may be in his addresses to his absent 
lady-love, she is always to him, as to everybody 
else, merely ^the cobbler's maid in Milk-street,' and 
is never in his or other people's eyes exalted by 
her function as a lady to an aristocratic height. She 
is merely a prentice-boy's naturally chosen sweetheart, 
and offers no resemblance whatever to the attributes 
with which Don Quixote invests Dulcinea. Susan, 
as a denizen of Milk-street, is a thoroughly local 
personage, moreover, and her 'cobbling' vocation 
smacks more suggestively of London than of Dul- 
cinea's rustic surroundings. That Ralph should have 
thought of honoring Susan, in particular, with his 
devotion is an aptly local touch, for it reflects the 
close community of the London trades, with perhaps 
some bit of condescension on the part of the grocer's 
boy in noticing a maiden whose master, unlike his 
own, belongs to one of the lower guilds, and not to 
one of the twelve great City Companies. There is 
in all this no hint of Dulcinea del Toboso and her 
country occupations, and there is nothing Spanish 
about it. Beaumont, we may well suppose, out of 
his own unassisted ingenuity, simply contrived to 
give point to his ridicule of the exaggerated lady- 
worship in the romances by calling before the imag- 
ination of his hearers a familiar London character 
in the person of this Susan, since the absurdity of 
the grocer knight's high-flown and chivalrous devotion 
to the ' cobbling dame ' would be patent to any Lon- 

Ivi Introduction 

don audience. How faithfully Ralph's attitude toward 
Susan, his vows and invocations to her, reflect the 
character of the romances, may be seen in the illus- 
trative passages from the romances which are quoted 
in my notes on the lines containing allusions to Susan. 

In giving notice to Leonhardt*s ascriptions to Don 
Quixote as a source of our play, I have incidentally 
covered all the larger features of the plot which are 
paralleled in the romances of chivalry. It would be 
possible to carry out the comparison with much 
greater minuteness. The burlesque portions of the 
play are packed with details of the romantic ma- 
chinery. The relief of poor ladies (1. 263), the swearing 
by the sword (2. 131), the keeping of the passage 
(2. 300), the mode of defying an enemy (2. 323-27), 
the functions of the dwarf and squire (3. 228), the 

taking of vows (3. 246-52) these and numerous 

other particularities are carried over directly from 
the romances. There are ample citations of illustra- 
tive parallels in the notes, and we may therefore 
ignore at this point these smaller dependencies. 

I trust that in the foregoing survey of analogous 
features in The Knight of the Burning Pestle and the 
romances it has been made sufficiently evident that 
Beaumont took the suggestion for his burlesque, so 
far as it touches the romances, directly out of his 

objects Amcidis of Gaul, Palmerin de Oliva, Palmer- 

in of England, &c. and not, as far as is either 

demonstrable or probable, out of Don Quixote. I have 
attempted to show that every incident adduced is 
more reasonably ascribable to the romances them- 
selves, or to local conditions, as the source of its in- 
spiration, than to Don Quixote. 

The broader aspects of the play and the novel 
tend to confirm the belief that their conceptions are 

Analogues and Attributed Sources Ivii 

mutually independent. There is nothing in The Knight 
of the Burning Pestle, for example, to correspond to 
the Knight of La Mancha*s Rozinante or to Sancho*s 

ass beasts which play a most important part in 

the fortunes of their masters. If Beaumont had Cer- 
vantes in mind, is it not strange that he did not in 
some way appropriate these famous chargers? 

There is no figure in the play to correspond to 
Sancho Panza, and assuredly here is a type which 
would have lent itself so readily to stage-caricature, 
and to the emphasis of the burlesque, that we can 
hardly conceive of Beaumont's neglecting to adapt 
it had he known it at first hand. True, the cit- 
izen-spectators, like Sancho, represent the prosaic 
unimaginative world of fact, and they thus afford the 
proper foil to heighten the humor of the burlesque. 
But they are not, like Sancho, themselves engaged 
in the central action, and their characteristics are 
not his. They do not have his homespun sense, and 
their obtuse blindness to the factitious nature of the 
stage-play is not, like the stolidity of Sancho, ever 
and again crossed by a gleam of intelligence, a real- 
ization that all this chivalric phantasm is a delusion 
and a fraud, and that they are its dupes. On the 
contrary, its simplicity is so great that, though Ralph's 
identity never becomes blurred, whatever is enacted 
before them can to them be only reality, and Ralph's 
assumption of a chivalric role can only project him 
into the felicities and dangers of an actual knight ; 
while, unlike Sancho, who knows that the windmills 
are windmills, and tries to call his master away from 
their disastrous sweep, the citizen and his wife quake 
with fear for Ralph, as though he were fighting an 
actual giant when he meets the barber, while every- 
where they excitedly stir him on to kill a lion, foil 

Iviii Introduction 

his enemy, or court the princess. They are very 
remote from Sancho Panza. 

Again, there is no character in the play which re- 
sembles Don Quixote himself. The Don and Ralph 
have pratically nothing in common. Ralph struts 
and swaggers about the stage in keen realization of 
his histrionic importance, and never for an instant 
loses himself in the pathetic bewilderment which at- 
taches to the old knight's semi-conciousness of con- 
flict between his reason and his fancies, of disparity 
between his chivalric dream-world and the unsym- 
pathetic world of reality in which he actually moves. 
There is the same measure of difference between 
the conceptions which would naturally have existed 
between a roistering prentice-boy of the London 
shops and a decayed old country hidalgo who has 
become so steeped in the literature and peculiar cul- 
ture of the day that his mind is turned. Surely, if 
Beaumont drafted the play upon the Spanish novel, 
we should expect to see a reproduction of at least 
some of the essential traits of its hero. 

It would be interesting to study carefully the broad- 
er contrasts between the two burlesques, but this 
brief statement of their leading differences, together 
with the obvious differences in scope of development 
and in local significance, will tend to show the es- 
sential dissimilarity between the play and the novel, 
and to confirm the specific proofs, already given, 
which point to Beaumont's independence of Cervantes 
in his conception both of the idea and the plot of 
The Knight of the Burning Pestle, The play and the 
novel touch each other closely in their satirical pur- 
pose ; but, in its specific features, the play is modeled 
directly upon the general lines of the romances 
themselves, and not upon Don Quixote. 

Analogues and Attributed Sources lix 

2. Contemporary Plays and Ballads. 

A number of the features of The Knight of the 
Burning Pestle seem to have been suggested by con- 
temporary plays, and by a popular ballad of the time. 

It has long been recognized that one of the especial 
objects of the burlesque is Heywood's Four Prentices 
of London. I shall consider the relation of the satire 
to this play in a later section. At present I wish 
to notice only the elements in its plot which were 
appropriated by Beaumont. These are few in number, 
but significant. There can be no doubt that the con- 
ception of a grocer-errant was suggested by the four 
prentice brothers in Heywood's play. The brothers 
are sons of the Earl of Bouillon, who has been so 
reduced in fortune that he lives 'in London like a 
Cittizen,' and binds them as prentices to four trades. 
Through the vicisitudes of their fortunes, they rise 
from their lowly tradesman's rank to become knights 
and princes. I shall sketch the plot in detail at 
another point. Written in a grandiose style, and 
devoted to flattering the vanity of the tradesmen, 
the play easily lent itself to ridicule ; and Beaumont, 
though nowhere following its development closely, 

appropriated its central feature the idea of prentice 

adventurers for the purposes of his burlesque, and 

incorporated a few of its details. 

Near the beginning of the play, Eustace expresses 
discontent with the humdrum life of the grocer's shop, 
and a desire for a warlike career: 

I am a Grocer: Yet had rather see 

A faire guilt sword hung in a velvet sheath, 

Then the best Barbary sugar in the world, 

Were it a freight of price inestimable. 

I haue a kind of prompting in my braine, 

That sayes: Though I be bound to a sweete Trade, 

I must forgoe it, I keepc too much in. 

Ix Introduction 

These lines seem to have suggested Ralph's query 


But what brave spirit could be content to sit in his shop, with a 
flappet of wood, and a blue apron before him, selling mithridatum 
and dragon's water to visited houses, that might pursue feats of arms, 
and, through his noble achievements, procure such a famous history 
to be written of his heroic prowess ? 

Eustace, before starting for the Holy Land, declares : 

For my Trades sake, if good successe I haue, 
The Grocers Armes shall in my Ensigne waue. 

Weber and Dyce point out that these lines sug- 
gested their parody as contained in Ralph's announc- 

Yet, in remembrance of my former trade upon my shield shall be 
portrayed a Burning Pestle, and I will be called the Knight of the 
Burning Pestle. 

There is a general resemblance to Ralph's adven- 
tures at the Court of Moldavia in the adventures of 
Guy at the court of the King of France. A shipwreck 
in Hey wood's play casts Guy upon the coast of France. 
The king and his daughter, walking upon the beach, 
espy him: 

Him at first sight the beauteous Lady loves ; 
And prays her father to receive him home: 
To which the King accords ; and in his Court 
Makes him a great and spedall Officer. 

The Princess straightway begins her suit, but is 
much more insistently amorous than Pompiona, and 
Guy is much more loquaciously obdurate that Ralph. 
The mistress, the thought of whom preserves him from 
the lady's advances, is not another Susan, but u>ar. 

Lady, faire Knight do you love? 

Guy, To march, to plant a battle, lead an Hoast, 
To be a souldier and to goe to Warre, 

By heauen I loue it as mine owne deere life 

Make Warre a Lady, I that Lady loue. 

Analogues and Attributed Sources Ixi 

The Lady objects: 

I know all this ; yoar words are but delaies : 
Could you not loue a Lady that loues you } 
Tis hard when women are enforced to wooe. 

The prentice-knight remains impenetrable; but the 
Lady, undismayed, follows him to the wars, and, in 
the final outcome, weds him. It will be seen that 
the situation is more acute than that between Ralph 
and Pompiona ; but because of its easy susceptibility 
to burlesque, it is possible that it was in our author's 
mind, together with the analogous episode in Palmerin 
de Oliva with which comparison has already been made. 
At the conclusion of The Four Prentices^ Charles says : 

Since first I bore this shield I quartered it 
With this red Lyon, whom I singly once 
Slew in the Forrest 

Dyce points out the resemblance of these lines to 
the Wife's suggestion: 'Let him kill a lion with a 
pestle, husband ' (Ind. 46), and also to a ballad en- 
titled The Honour of a London Apprentice^ in which 
the said apprentice kills two lions. It is hazardous 
to assert that either Heywood's play or the ballad 
is the direct source of the Wife's proposal. The ro- 
mances of chivalry are filled with conflicts with lions, 
and Beaumont may have been merely ridiculing this 
stock motive, without a specific incident in view. 

The Honour of a London Apprentice is an absurdly 
serious tale of a London shop-boy, who finds himself 
in Turkey, and proceeds to defend the name of 
* Elizabeth his princess ' by slaying the Sultan's son. 
Two lions are set to devour the prentice, but he 
succeeds in killing them both by thrusting his arms 
down their throats and plucking out their hearts, 
which he casts before the Sultan. This act so fills 
the monarch with admiration that he repents all his 

Ixii Introduction 

'foul offences' against the prentice, and gives him 
his daughter to wed^ 

This ballad was very popular at the time, and must 
have been known to Beaumont. It offers an excellent 
parallel, in its ridiculous laudation of the prowess of 
London prentice-boys, to the burlesque use of this 
general theme in our play ; and, though it cannot be 
demonstrated, it is possible that the ballad influenced 
Beaumont's conception. 

There are three comparatively distinct strands in 
the plot of The Knight of the Burning Pestle : the love- 
story of Jasper and Luce, the fortunes of the Merry- 
thought family, and the adventures of Ralph. The 
literary relationships of the third division have been 
specified. The first two are realistic reflections of 
ordinary life merely, and are for the most part either 
original with the dramatists, or drawn from the com- 
mon subject-material of the stage. 

The love-theme, though given here and there some 
freshness and beauty, is essentially conventional. The 
avaricious and irascible father, bent upon wedding 
his daughter to a wealthy dolt whom she despises, 
the rejected suitor, the poor but favored lover, the 
elopement, the reconciliation, and the happy ending 

here is a time-honored plot which has been the 

stock in trade of the theatre from the earliest ap- 
pearance of English comedy down to the latest pop- 
ular ' hit ' upon Broadway. It is superfluous to attempt 
to find an origin for the central idea of this story. 
Beaumont and Fletcher drew it firom their observation 
of the life about them, and from the conventions of 
their profession. 

One or two of its elements, however, seem to have 
been suggested by contemporary plays. Emil Koeppel 

^ The ballad may be found in Ritson's Ancient Songs and Ballads 2, 199. 

Analogues and Attributed Sources Ixiii 

has called attention to a similarity between one of 
its episodes and Marston's Antonio and Mellida, which 
appeared in 1602 ^ At the conclusion of the play, 
there is a device similar to the conveyance of Jasper 
into the house of Venturewell, and of Luce into the 
house of Merrythought, in a coffin (4. 268, 349, and 
5. 196). Antonio, the hero, causes himself to be car- 
ried on a bier into the presence of his beloved Mellida 
in the palace of her father, Piero Sforza, the Duke of 
Venice, who has opposed the match because of enmity 
toward Antonio s family. When the incident occurs, 
the Duke has just been reconciled with Antonio's 
father. In the midst of the funeral assemblage, Piero 
swears that he would bestow Mellida s hand upon 
Antonio, could the latter*s life be restored. At these 
words, the supposed corpse rises from the bier, and 
demands the fulfilment of the vow, which is granted. 
It is true that the situation in our play is conceived 
chiefly in a comic spirit, and is solved through Ven- 
turewells ludicrous fear of Jasper's fabricated ghost, 
and grief over the fictitious death of the heroine in- 
stead of the hero ; but the devices in the two plays 
are similar enough to make plausible the conjecture 
that here our authors draw upon Marston. 

The character of Humphrey has interesting affili- 
ations throughout our early comedy, and is not hard 
to account for. The cowardly fop and ninny, who 
is the dupe of a parasite, or the sport of a scornful 
lady-love, or the victim of humorous wags about 
town, is a stock figure upon the Elizabethan stage; 
he is as old, indeed, as Ralph Roister Doister him- 
self. From one point of view or another, Humphrey 
is akin to Ralph Roister Doister, to Shakespeare's 

* QuelUn'Studifft zu den Dramen Ben Jonson*s^ John Marston* s und 
Beaumonfs und Fletcher's^ p. 42. 

Ixiv Introduction 

Simple, to Ben Jonson's Master Stephen, and to nu- 
merous gulls and dandies of the old drama whose 
only merit lies in their curled locks or in their money- 
bags. A comparative study of these characters would 
result in the definition of a recurrent type ; it would 
not result in the specification of a concrete source 
for the conception of Humphrey. Here, again, Beau- 
mont and Fletcher are appropriating the general 
stock in trade of the theatre, though they must be 
granted a large degree of originality in a creation 
of such bizarre, and indeed overdrawn, absurdity as 
the figure of this unconscionable booby. 

The family of the Merrythoughts, like the house- 
hold of the merchant, form merely a homely picture 
of more or less typical domesticity, and are sketched 
by the authors from observation rather than under 
the influence of literary models. Old Merrythought, 
however, is more of a ' humor ' study than an actual 
invididual, and his portrait has suggested analog^ues. 
His name reminds Leonhardt of Merrygreek, the 
parasite in Ralph Roister Doister, and his fondness 
for ballads recalls to Leonhardt Justice Silence in 
2 Henry IVK It is almost needless to say that the 
resemblances here are only superficial. Merrygreek, 
like Merrythought, does, indeed, flee from work, and 
he announces as a sort of guiding motto : 

As long l3nieth the meny man, they say, 

As doth the sory man, and longer by a day ; 

but he is a schemer and a sharp, who craftily designs 
to live at the charges of his patron, while our scape- 
grace thinks not at all about the means for procuring 
meat and drink, and carelessly defies the encroach- 
ment of poverty. He warbles : 

* Ober Beaumont und Fletcher's Knight of the Burning Pestle^ p, 30. 

Objects of the Satire Ixv 

Who can sing a merrier note 

Than he that cannot change a groat ? 

In another passage he cries: 

When earth and seas from me are reft, 
The skies aloft for me are left. 

Merrythought's absorbing jollity is not the spirit of 
Merrygreek. Still less is it associated with Shake- 
speare's Justice Silence. This character has no kinship 
with Merrythought beyond his singing of snatches 
from old ballads, and, moreover, he sings only when 
he is intoxicated; Merrythought sings at all times, 
whether he be drunk or sober. If it were desirable 
to push comparisons, one might find relationships 
between our lover of ballads and the ballad-monger 
Autolycus in A Winter's Tale, which was first acted 
near the date of our play's appearance. This latter 
personage, however, is concerned only with the profit 
to be gained from his wares, and the clownage which 
characterizes him is the expression of deep -dyed 
rascality, while that of Merrythought is merely the 
result of irrepressible spirits. After all, however far 
Merrythought may be the reflection of a common 
type, I think that we must recognize in his blithe 
and sunny nature, his invincible gaiety, and his com- 
fortable philosophy, an imperfectly outlined, but orig- 
inal and eminently happy creation of our dramatists. 
The character is not without an ancestry, but in its 
distinguishing lineaments it is unique. 

E. Objects of the Satire. 

The satire in The Knight of the Burning Pestle points 
in many directions. It is leveled at the romances of 
chivalry, together with the tastes of the reading mem- 
bers of the middle classes, and the extravagances of 
the bourgeois drama, which were the products of this 

Ixvi Introduction 

literature; it is leveled at the dunce-critics of the 
London shops, who presumed to sit in judgment 
upon the playwrights, and to impose upon the stage 
such theatrical productions as conformed to their 
uncouth standards ; it is leveled at some of the child- 
ish diversions and foibles of the commoners, with an 
especial reference to their inflated military ardor as 
manifested in the drills of the City train bands at 
Mile End. My purpose is to show the relevancy and 
justification of this ridicule by sketching the several 
objects which provoked it 

1 . Literary and Theatrical Tastes of the Middle Classes. 

The discussion of the parallel episodes in The 
Knight of the Burning Pestle and the romances of 
chivalry has either covered or anticipated what is to 
be said of the popular literature of the time, so faf 
as it offered material for the burlesque. The features 
of the old tales which were most openly exposed 
to the satirical shafts of the dramatist have been 
sufficiently illustrated by these comparisons. It re- 
mains to show how far the burlesque upon them 
was pertinent to the English public. 

a. TheFashion of Romance-reading, and theChivalric Drama, 

The continental romances of chivalry never secured 
the wide vogue among the English aristocracy which 
they had enjoyed in the courts and castles of their 
native soils. The reason is not far to seek. In the 
first place, the field was preempted, so far as the ro- 
mances continued to be read among the higher classes, 
by the legends of Arthur and his Round Table, 
which, with their organic religious principle and their 
fine consecrations, together with their distinctly na- 
tional aroma, appealed to thoughtful, cultivated minds 

Objects of the Satire bcvii 

with far greater force than the pointless extravagances 
of Amadis of Gaul and its progeny. The favor some- 
times accorded to these peculiarly British tales by 
men of letters is reflected in Milton's unqualified 
reverence for the characters and ideals of the knights : 
he tells us that in his youth he betook himself ' among 
those lofty fables and romances, which recount in 
solemn cantos the deeds of knighthood founded by 
our victorious kings/ and that the magnanimous and 
pure lives of the heroes proved to him 'so many 
incitements ... to the love and steadfast observation 
of that virtue which abhors the society of bordelloes';^ 
and his early intention to write an epic founded upon 
the Arthurian legend is well known. 

But the good opinion of romances entertained by 
Milton does not by any means reflect the attitude of 
all littirateurs and scholars. As early as 1670, Roger 
Ascham lodged a frequently quoted indictment against 
the Morte d Arthur as an agent of popery and a cor- 
rupter of youth. He says : 

In our forefather*s time, when Papistrie as a standyng poole, couered 
and ouerflowed all England, few bookes were read in our tong, sauyng 
certaine bookes of Cheualrie, as they sayd, for pastime and pleasure, 
which, as some say, were made in Monasteries, by idle Monkes, or 
wanton Chanons ; as one for example, Aforte Arthure : the whole 
pleasure of which booke standeth in two speciall poyntes, in open 
manslaughter, and bold bawdry. . . . Yet, I know when Gods Bible 
was banished the Court, and Morte Arthure received into the Princes 
chamber. What toyes the dayly readying of such a booke may worke 
in the will of a yong ientleman, or a yong mayde, that liueth welthelie 
and idelie, wise men can iudge, and honest men do pitie*. 

The sombre old pedagogue's fear of the pernicious 
influence of the Morte d* Arthur was, of course, exces- 
sive, but it was in line, at least, with a growing 
sentiment that the reading of romances, even those 

* An Apology for Smectytnnuus, 1642. 
* The Schoolmaster, Arber's Reprint, p. 70. 

e 2 

Ixviii Introduction 

of native growth, was a waste of time. During 
Elizabeth's reign, the national tales were displaced, 
and the Amadis cycles were forestalled, in the ' prince's 
chamber' and court circles, by court and pastoral 
fictions, either translated or modeled from the Spanish 
and the Italian, and by the varied species of poetry 
which sprang into being under the inspiration of the 
Italian Renaissance. As a result of this new and 
polished literature, the way into the favor of culti- 
vated readers was blocked against the Peninsular 
romances. When Anthony Munday began to make 
his translations in the latter half of the sixteenth 
century, books of chivalry had lost much of their 
prestige in Spain itself, and it was inevitable that 
they should receive small notice in English society, 
whose literary fashions were largely dominated by 
Spanish influenced 

But though banished from the circles of the ilUe^ 
Munday's versions received wide and lasting popu- 
larity among the uneducated. Because of the success 
of his undertaking, Munday published translations of 
Palmerin of England, Palmerin de Oliva, PMidino of 
England, Amadis of Gaul, Primaleon of Greece, and 
Palmendos, in the order named. Coeval with Munday's 
labor were the translations of other romances by 
other hands, chief of which was that of the famous 
Espeio de Caballerias, The first part of this exceed- 
ingly popular work was translated in 1579 by Mar- 
garet Tiler. The remaining eight portions appeared 
at intervals, the last being printed in 1602. The book 
was given the English tide of The Mirrour of Knight- 
hood . ... The Mirrour of Princely Deeds and Knight- 
hood, wherein is shewed the Worthinesse of the Knight 
of the Sunne and his Brother Sosicleer, &c., &c. 

* Cf. Underhill, Spanish Literature in the England of the Tudors^^. 368. 

Objects of the Satire Ixix 

The romances which seem to have received the 
largest prominence, and which, moreover, are the 
most directly related to The Knight of the Burning 
Pestle, are Amadis of Gaul, the two Palmerins, and 
The Mirrour of Knighthood. As is well known, Amadis 
was the progenitor of the Spanish cycles, and it is 
generally regarded as having given the most admirable 
expression to the peculiarities of its type. Its imita- 
tive descendants, however, steadily deteriorated in 
worth, and in The Mirrour of Knighthood the wild 
and preposterous plots which marked the romances 
reached the climax of extravagance. Cervantes has 
this tale consigned without mercy to the flames. The 
relative merits of the Amadis and the Palmerins are 
specified by Cervantes is his chapter on ^ The Burning 
of the Books.' The curate commands Oliva to be 
^rent in pieces, and burned in such sort that even 
the very ashes thereof may not be found.' Amadis 
is to be preserved as ' the very best contrived book 
of all those of that kind.' Palmerin of England also 
is to be preserved 'as a thing rarely delectable.' 
'The discourse,' says the curate, 'is very clear and 
courtly, observing evermore a decorum in him that 
speaks, with great propriety and conceit' All the 
other presentations of 'so bad a sect' are doomed 
by the curate to the flames. 

Side by side with these foreign importations, the 
heroic tales of native growth were diligently pub- 
lished and read. The Morte d' Arthur was frequently 
printed down to 1634, and the histories of Sir Bcvis 
of Hamptoun, Sir Guy of Warwick, Sir Lancelot of the 
Lake, Robin Hood, Adam Bell, &c., were constantly 
issued from the press in small handy volumes, which 
were adorned with illustrative cuts*. In their attract- 

> Cl Jusscrand, Tfu English Novel in the Time of Shakespeare, p. 64. 

l3cx Introduction 

ive bindings, these wonderful story-books went forth 
to the London shops and the country villages, where 
they were read by all commoners with the avidity 
and faith of children. The extent and quality of a 
middle class man*s reading happen to have found an 
abundant and most valuable illustration in a rare old 
letter written by one Robert Laneham, which con- 
tains a list of the ballads and story-books of a Co- 
ventry mason who was known as Captain Cox, and 
who figured in a Hock Tuesday play given before 
Queen Elizabeth in the festivals at Kenilworth Castle, 
July, 1676, which are described by Laneham. The 
list of Cox*s books, inserted by Laneham into his 
account of this individual, is by so far the fullest and 
best exemplification of the kind of literary taste sat- 
irized in our play which I have seen that, though 
few of the romances mentioned by Beaumont are 
included, I here transcribe the whole of it: 

But aware, keep bak, make room now, heer they cum I And fyrst, 
captin Cox, and od man I promiz yoo : by profession a Mason, and 
that right skillful, verry cunning in fens, and hardy az Gawin ; for 
his tonsword hangs at his tablz eend : great ouersigt hath he in matters 
of storie : For az for King Arthurz book, Huon of Burdeaus, The foonr 
sons of Aymon, Beuys of Hampton, The squire of lo degree. The 
Knight of Courtesy, and the Lady Faguell, Frederick of Gene, Syr 
Eglamooure, Syr Trysmaooure, Syr Lamwell, Sir Isenbras, Sir Gawin, 
Olyver of the Castle, Lucres and Curialus, Virgil's Life, the Castl of 
Ladiez, the Wido Edyth, The King and the Tanner, Frier Rous, Howie- 
glas, Gargantua, Robinhood, Adam Bel, Glim of the Qough and 
William of Cloudlcy, the Churl and the Burd, the Seven Wise Masters, 
the Wife lapt in a Morels Skin, the Sak full of Nuez, the Sergant 
that became a Fryer, Skogan, Collyn Clout, the Fryar and the Boy, 
Elynor Running, and the Nut brooun Maid, with many moe then I 
rehearz heere, I believe hee haue them all at his fingers endz. 

Then in Philosophy, both morall and naturall, I think he be az 
naturally ouerseen ; beside Poetrie and Astronomic, and other hid 
Sciencz, az I may gesse by the omberty of his books ; whearof part, 
az I remember. The Shepherdz Kalender, The ship of Foolz, Danielz 
Dreams, the Booke of Fortune, Stans puer ad Mensam, The by way 
to the Spitl-house, Julian of Brainfords testament, the Castle of Loue, 

Objects of the Satire Ixxi 

the Booget of Demainds, the Hundreth Mery Talez, the Book of Riddels, 
the seaven Sororz of Wemen, the proud Wives Pater Noster, the Chap- 
men of a Peneworth of Wit, Hikskomer, Nugizee, Impacient Poverty, 
and herewith Doctor Boords Breviary of Health. What should I re- 
hearz heer, what a bunch of Ballets and Songs, all auncient ; as Broom 
broom on hil, So wo ii me begon, troly lo, Oliver a Whinny, Meg, 
Hey ding a ding. Bony lass upon a green. My hony on gaue me a bek, By 
a bank as I lay; and a hundred more he hath wrap up in a parch- 
ment, and bound with a whip chord. And az for Almanacks of An- 
tiquitee (a point for Ephemeridees), I ween he can sheaw from (LX) 
Jasper Laet of Antwarp vnto (LXI) Nostradem of Frauns, and thens 
vnto oour (LXII) John Securiz of Salsbury. To stay ye no longer 
heerin, I dare say hee hath az fair a library for theez sciencez, & az 
many goodly monuments both in proze & poetry, & at aftemoonz can 
talk az much without book, az ony Inholder betwixt Brainford and 
Bagshot, what degree soeuer he be^. 

It will be seen from this remarkable document that, 
though the amount of fiction appropriated to the 
commoners was numerically by no means small, it 
oflFered little variety. In one way or another, an 
element of magnificence or of mystery runs through 
all the popular literature. Their fancy stimulated by 
continuous association, through their reading, with 
noble knights and gentle ladies, who led them un- 
ceasingly into an ever widening realm of grandeur 
and marvel, it is no wonder that simple-minded folk, 
like our citizen and his wife, came to believe in the 
veracity of these tales, and it is with no great stretch 
of probability that the playwright depicts their naive 
acceptance of his dramatic fable as a bit of absorbing 
and immediate fact. 

The popularity which accrued to the romances 
through the industry of the translators and the printers 
was maintained late into the seventeenth century, 
and the favor accorded them by the citizen-spectators 
in our play seems to be in no wise overdrawn. Not 
only the shopkeepers, but bourgeois society as a 

* Cf. Robert Laniham's Letter^ ed. Fumivall, p. 12. 

bail Introduction 

whole, were beguiled by the seductions of the narra- 
tives, and looked upon the knowledge of them as a 
mark of superior breeding. In particular, their cul- 
tivation was affected by the Paul's men, and the 
'shabby genteel' gallants and beaux of the Eliza- 
bethan and Stuart regimes. Matthew Merrygreek, 
the parasite in Ralph Roister Doister, can think, for 
instance, of no surer means of flattering the vanity 
of his gull of a patron than in thus describing the 
effect of the latter's appearance upon the onlookers 
in the street: 

' Who is this ? *, sayth one, * Sir Launcelot du Lake ? * 

* Who is this ? greate Guy of Warwike ? * sayth an-other ; 

* No, ' say I, * it is the thirtenth Hercules brother ' ; 

' Who is this ? noble Hector of Troy ? ' sayth the thirde ; 

* No, but of the same nest,' say I, ' it is a birde * ; . . . 

* Who is this ? greate Alexander ? or Charle le Maigne ? * 

* No it is the tenth Worthie,' say I to them agajme. 

This trenchant testimony of the addiction of ' sparks ' 
and would-be men of fashion to the reading of ro- 
mances is borne out by many another allusion in the 
literature of the period. ' If they read a book at any 
time,' writes Robert Burton in The Anatomy of Mel- 
ancholy ^ 'tis an English Chronicle, Sr. Huon of 
Bordeaux, Amadis de Gaul, &c.'; and, in depicting 
the inamoratoes of the day. Burton accuses them of 
'reading nothing but the play books, idle poems, 
Amadis de Gaul, the Knight of the Sun, the Seven 
Champions, Palmerin de Oliva, Huon de Bordeaux, &c. ' * 
Furthermore, Fynes Moryson, in directing a hypo- 
thetical traveler how to acquire courtly language, re- 
veals the depth of the common admiration of the 
tales, particularly of Amadis : 

I think no Booke better for his discourse than Amadis of Gauie^ 
for the Knights errant, and the Ladies of Courts doe therein exchange 

* Cf. Drake, Shakespeare and his Times, p. 253. 

Oljeds rfike Smar bom 

CoQitlj tpecdia, aad tkse Books air ia all Ingssfcs tnadaied bj 
tlie liaitcn of doqvoKe*. 

Even Sir Philip Sidney, in recording his observation 
of the humanizing effects of ^ poetical imitation. * has 
this to say for Amum^: 

Trolj, I hane kaowB mem, thai ctcb vilk rea^af AnaAs de Gaalc, 
wfakh, God kaovcth, vaatclh mmdk of a pofect pooj, hane fMiad 
their hearts moved to die czeiaae of coiutaj, libcnlitT, aad spec- 
ially coua^^. 

Not only the city gallants and dames, bat the 
coimtry gentry as well, were devoted to the penisal 
of romances. In an old book, entitled The EmgliA 
Courtier and the Ountrey^emtUmum, Vincent, the coimtry- 
gentleman, tells how they amuse themselves 'in 
fowle weather ' at dice, cards, and grames, and ' Wee 
want not also pleasant mad-headed knaues that bee 
properly learned, and well reade in diuerse pleasant 
bookes and good authors, as Sir Guy of Warwicke, 
the four sonnes of AMum, the Ship ofFooles, the Budget 
of Demaundes, the Hundreth Merry Tales, The Booke of 
Bjfddles, and many other excellent writers bot witty 
and pleasaimt'' This book was written in 1579. 
How thorough and persistent was the country folk's 
relish for the romances is shown by the fact that, 
many years after 1579, Brome, in his Covent Garden 
Weeded, published 1658, included a satire upon it 
In Act 1, sc. 1, of that play, Crossewell, a country 
squire, is trying to persuade his son, whom he has 
brought up to London, to stop talking about the 
study of law, and become interested in ^ polite literature/ 
He says: 

Away with books. Away with madnesse. I, God blesse thee, 
and make thee his servant and defend thee from Law, I say. Take 

• Itinerary^ 1617, Part 3, Bk. I, chap. 2, p. 15. 

• Defense of Poesy^ ed. Cook, p. 24. 

■ Cf. Robert Laneham'i Letter^ ed. Furnivall, p. 14. 

Ixxiv Introduction 

up these books, sirrah, and carry them presently into Pauls Church- 
yard dee see, and change them all for Histories, as pleasant as prof- 
itable ; Arthur of Britain^ Primalion of Greece^ Amadis of Gaul, 

Mi, I hope he do's but jest 

Cross. And do you heare, Sirrah. 

BcU. I Sir. 

Cross. Get Bells work, and you can, into the bargain. 

BeU, Which Bell, Sir ? Adam Bell, with Cltm o'th'CUmgh and 
WilUam of CUmdesley. 

Cross. Adam Bell you Asse ? Valiant Bell that kill'd the Dragon. 

Belt. You mean St, George. 

Cross, Sir folthead, do I not FU teach you to chop logick, 
with me. 

Mi. Sfoot, how shall I answer my borrowed books? Stay Belt, 
Pray Sir, do not change my books. 

Cross. Sir, Sir, I will change them and you too : Did I leave thee 
here to learn fashions and manners, that thou mightst carry thy self 
like a Gentleman, and dost thou wast thy brains in learning a lan- 
guage that I understand not a word of ? ha I I had been as good have 
brought thee up among the wild Irish. 

Crossewell's amusing laudation of the cultural value 
he ascurbes to the absurd old yams would probably 
have won the approval of every member of his coun- 
try household, except this recalcitrant son. Emphatic 
assent would certainly have been yielded to it by 
the swains and damsels of the servants' hall. At all 
events, the tales, and in particular the Spanish ro- 
mances, are said to have been the common reading 
of milkmaids for a century after their importation^. 
How plebeian was their appeal may be partially in- 
dicated, indeed, by the traditional belief that Palmerin 
de Oliva itself was the work of a carpenter's daughter 
in northern Spain ^ The stories were eagerly perused 
by the credulous servant-girls of the day. Overbury, 
in his Characters, written 1618, says of a chambermaid : 

She reads Greene's Works over and over ; but is so carried away 
with the * Mirror of Knighthood, * she is many times resolved to nm 
out of her self and become a lady-errant*. 

* Cf. Underbill, Spanish Literature in the England of the Tudors, p. 307. 

* Ibid., p. 298. 

* Cf. Character Writings of the Seventeenth Century ^ ed. Morley, p. 59. 

Objects of the Satire l^v 

To much the same eflFect is William Browne's testi- 
mony in a poem upon a lady who converses with 
her maid about her love-letters: 

Op'ning a paper then she shows her wit, 
On an epistle that some fool had writ: 
Then meeting with another which she likes, 
Her chambermaid's great reading quickly strikes 
That good opinion dead, and swears that this 
Was stol'n from Palmerin or Amadis. 

And in Massinger's Guardian 1. 2, the confidante 
Calipso says : 

In all the books of Amadis de Gaul, 

The Palmerins and that true Spanish story, 

The Mirror of Knighthood, which I have often read. 

Read feelingly, nay more I do believe in*t, 

My lady has no parallel. 

How thoroughly the servant-class were possessed of 
a cra2e for the romances may be emphasized by one 
more citation. In Shirley's Gentleman of Venice 1. 2, 
Roberto, the Duke*s gardener, is being upbraided by 
his wife for allowing their son Giovanni to waste his 
time in reading trash: 

So, so I the duke*s garden shall be then 
Well look'd to! he deserves a pension 
For reading Amadis de Gaul, and guzman 
And Don Quixote ; but 1*11 read him a lecture. 

The gardener is proud of his son*s literary learning, 
and asks Giovanni, one of his subordinates: 

And does he not tell the tales, and dainty stories sometimes ? 

Gtov. Oh, of Tamberlaine, and the great Turk 

Would you would speak to him, though to take a little 

More pains I *tis I do all the droll, the dirt- work. 

When I am digging, he is cutting unicorns 

And lions in some hedge, or else devising 

New knots upon the ground, drawing out crowns, 

And the duke's arms, castles, and cannons in them ; . . . 

I think he means to embroider all the garden 

Shortly ; but I do all the coarse work. 

Ixxvi Introduction 

But not only had the romances descended from 
their once high estate in the favor of kings and 
nobles, to become the familiar reading-matter of gar- 
deners and kitchen-maids; they were still further de- 
graded by being cast out into the streets and alehouses, 
where, in shortened, mutilated forms, they became the 
common property of the mendicant minstrels, a race 
once worthy and honored, but now become vicious 
and despised. These vagabonds wandered about the 
towns, and, for a pittance, sang to the harp rimed 
snatches of the old tales for the amusement of the 
multitude. This fate was meted out particularly to 
the domestic romances. Puttenham has much to 
say of the tuned versions made by 

these Canta banqui vpon benches and barrel heads where they haue 
none other audience then boys or countrey fellowes that passe by them 
in the streete, or else the blind harpers or such like taueme minstrels 
that giue a fit of mirth for a groat and their matters being for the 
most part stories of old time, as the tale of Sir Tophas^ the reports 
of Bevis of Southampton^ Guy of Wdrwicke^ Adam Bel and Clymme 
of the Cloughy and such other old Romances or historical rimes, made 
purposely for the recreation of the common people at Christmas diners 
and brideales, and in tauems and alehouses and such other places of 
base resort; also they be vsed in Csurols and rounds and such light 
or lascivious Poems, which are commonly more conmiodiously vttered 
by these buffoons or vices in playes then by any other persons I ^ 

These few scattered allusions to the popular taste 
in literature, here brought together because of their 
concisely illustrative worth, will serve to show how 
thoroughly steeped in chivalric lore were all grades 
of society lower than the highest. From the wealthy 
London tradesmen and the country squires down to 
the menials in their households and the begg^ars in 
the street, the old-fashioned and elsewhere despised or 
forgotten tales were eagerly read or listened to, and 
their admirers not only believed that, in absorbing 

* Art of English Poesie (Arber's Reprint), p. 56. 

Objecis of the Satire Ixxvii 

them, they were somehow partaking deeply of a fount 
of emancipating, though mysterious, culture, but often 
showed a naYve, unfaltering trust in the truth of the 
related deeds of knightly heroes and wicked giants, 
and of the whole phantasmagoria of wild wonders 
and ' enchantments drear. ' The Wife in The Knight 
of the Burning Pestle is by no means unique in her 
sympathy with the King of Portugal, who had such 
a hungry time of it because of the malevolence of 
the giants and ettins, who snatched from his table 
his daily meat, or in her honest skepticism about the 
convertibility of this monstrous race to the virtuous 
living of ' us ordinary people, ' or in her scathing dis- 
paragement of the knights of James I, who do, in- 
deed, like the knights of old, ^neglect their posses- 
sions well enough, but do not the rest'; while her 
assenting spouse but records his orthodoxy in an- 
nouncing that he will have a ring to discover the 
enchantments which so prop up Jasper that he resists 
victoriously the onslaught of Ralph's all-conquering 
arm. In these small touches Beaumont is but deftly 
hitting oflF the absurd credulity of the citizen-public 
in respect to the literature upon which they had been 
reared, and their presumption in forcing the gro- 
tesque fashions of the romances upon the boards of 

the playhouse a dictation which they felt called 

upon to assume, since they were the chief patrons 
of the public theatres. 

That the influence of this popular literature should 
be felt in the drama was, of course, inevitable. It 
would have been strange indeed if some of the needy, 
struggling playwrights of the time had not turned to 
good account their opportunity of catering to the 
childish taste of their public in the production of 
extravagant acting versions of the old themes. That 

Ixxviii Introduction 

there was a large crop of such plays, having a chiv- 
alric, if not directly romantic setting, is evident even 
from the meagre accounts of them which have de- 
scended to us. In the earlier days of the drama, be- 
fore the romances had wholly lost caste, a number 
of these stage-redactions of them were even produced 
at court. For instance, on Jan. 3, 1574, Lord Clinton's 
Men presented a play called HerpettUus, the Blue Knight 
and .... Perobia ; in Aug., 1576, The Bed Knight was 
acted by the Chamberlain's Men; on Feb. 17, 1577, 
The Solitary Knight was given by Lord Charles How- 
ard's Men; on March 1, 1579, Warwick's Men acted 
The Knight in the Burning Bock (a production which 
is sometimes supposed to have suggested the title 
of our play); on Jan. 12, 1582, Ariodanto and Genevora 
(founded on the Orlando Furioso) was acted by the 
Merchant-Taylors' Boys ; and on Dec. 28, 1593, the 
Earl of Sussex' Men acted Huon of Bordeaux^ a play 
which was evidently founded on the romance of that 
name. All of these plays were of anonymous author- 
ship, and none of them are now extant. Their titles 
can leave little doubt, however, that their themes, 
when not taken directly out of chivalric legends, 
were reproductions of the peculiar tone and character 
of those legends ^ 

But the chivalric drama did not measure the length 
of its career by its brief popularity among the higher 
circles. When the Palmerins^ Bosicler, Guy of Warwick, 
and their redoubtable compeers, had been banished 
from the court, they still pursued their endless quests 
throughout the world, not only through the resusci- 
tative magic of the printer's art, but upon the open 
boards of the common theatre, where they visibly 
and impressively wrought their wondrous deeds once 

* Cf. Fleay, Biographical Chronicle of the English Drama^ Vol. 2. 

Objects of the Satire Ixxix 

more, meeting and overcoming dragons, lions, mon- 
sters, giants, 'uncurteous* knights, and tyrants and 
strong armies, to the infinite delight, albeit palpita- 
tion, we may believe, of the wide-eyed and aston- 
ished, but credulous, admiring multitude. It is true 
that few of the media through which these heroes 
thus contrived to prolong their manifold exploits have 
come down to us in the form of books. The plays 
were written merely to suit the shallow caprice of 
an unreflective audience, and, from the nature of 
their theme and purpose, could have had little in- 
trinsic worth or interest. Therefore most of them 
seem never to have had a reading public, but were 
cast into the limbo where were gathered the in- 
numerable other stage ephemera which never knew 
the perpetuating agency of print. 

That there was a goodly number of these plays 
of chivalry and wild adventure, however, is not to 
be doubted. Stephen Gosson, the Puritan, implies 
as much, in his Playes Confuted in Five Actions: 

I may boldely say it because I haue seen it, that the Palace of 
pleasure, the Golden Asse, the Aethiopian historie, Amadis of Fraunce, 
theRounde table, baudie Comedies in Latine, French, Italian, and Spanish, 
haue been throughly ransact to furnish the Playe houses in London.^ 

And with what a complete equipment the stage 
seems continuously to have been prepared for this 
kind of representations may be gathered from a 
graphic description in Brome's Antipodes^ 1638. A 
young lord, crazed with a mania for travel, gets in 
among the properties of a theatre, and his conduct 
is thus described by one of the actors : 

He has got in into our Tjrring-house amongst us. 

And tane a strict survey of all our properties. 

Our statues and our images of Gods ; our Planets and our constellations, 

Our Giants, Monsters, Furies, Beasts, and Bug-Beares, 

* Of. W. C. Hazlitt, TTie English Drama and Stage. 

Ixxx Introduction 

Oar Helmets, Shields, and Vizors, Haires, and Beards, 

Oar Pastboard March-paines, and our Wooden Pies — 

Whether he thought twas some inchanted Castle, 

Or Temple, hung and pild with Monuments 

Of uncouth, and of various aspects, 

I dive not to his thoughts ; wonder he did 

A while it seem'd, but yet undanted stood ; 

When on the suddaine, with thrice knightly force, 

And thrice, thrice, puissant arme he snatcheth downe 

The sword and shield that I played Bovis with, 

Rusheth amongst the foresaid properties, 

Kils Monster, after Monster ; takes the Puppets 

Prisoners, knocks downe the Cyclops, tumbles all 

Our jig ambobs and trinckets to the wall. 

Spying at last the Crowne and royall Robes 

Ith upper wardrobe, next to which by chance, 

The divells vizors hung, and their flame painted 

Skin coates ; those he removed with greater fury, 

And (having cut the infemall ugly faces. 

All into mamocks) with a reverend hand. 

He takes the imperiall diadem and crownes 

Himselfe King of the Antipodes^ and beleeves 

He has justly gained the Kingdom by his conquest 

It will been seen from this account that 'giants, mon- 
sters, furies, beasts, and bug-bears' were habitual 
denizens of the tiring-house, and that their emergence 
into the glare of the open stage-light not infrequently 
brought to proof anew the combative prowess of 
Sir Bevis (Bovis) of Southamptoun and his valiant 
company, as they stalked and slashed their way with 
sword and shield amongst the gruesome creatures, in 
full exposure to the public gaze. 

We need not trust wholly to general descriptions, 
however, for the proof of the existence of these 
chivalric extravaganzas. Some of the titles, and a 
few of the plays themselves, have come down to us. 
I cull from the lists of F. G. Fleay^ the names of 
the following extant stage-productions which have a 
more or less evident relation to the romances: 

* Biographical Chronicle of the English Drama, 

Objects of the Satire Ixxxi 

1. Common Conditions ^ a play describing ' the adven- 
tures of amorous knights passing from country to 
country for the love of their ladies.' Anon. Entered 
S. R. July 26, 1576. 

2. The history of the two valiant knights^ Sir Clyomon^ 
Knight of the Golden Shield and (Sir) Clamydes, the white 
Knight. Authorship uncertain. 1578? 

3. The Misfortunes of Arthur. * Uther Pendragon's 
son reduced into tragical notes by Thomas Hughes 
of Gray's Inn.' Feb. 28, 1588. 

4. Orlando Furioso. Robert Greene. 1588-9. 

5. Charlimayne. Anon. 1589? 

6. The Four Prentices of London. Thomas Hey wood. 

7. Uter Pendragon. Anon. 1589. 

8. Tristram de Lyons. Anon. Oct. 4, 1599. 

9. The Four Sons of Amyon. Anon. Dec. 10, 1602. 
10. The Trial of Chivalry. Heywood and another ? 


To this list may be added two or three plays not 
extant, viz : The Life and Death of Arthur, King of 
England, by Richard Hathaway, 1598 ; The Green 
Knight, a tragedy, mentioned by Nash in his Lenten 
Stuffe, 1599 ; The Life and Death of Guy of Warwick, 
entered S. R. Jan. 19, 1620, and attributed to John 
Day and Thomas Dekker; possibly, also, the play 
mentioned in The Knight of the Burning Pestle as 
Bold Beauchamps, which was a dramatization of the 
chivalric, but historically true, career of Thomas, first 
Earl of Warwick of that name. 

When we add together the lost plays of chivalric 
cast produced at court and those just listed, we get 

a sum of about twenty titles a number which is 

not inconsiderable if the time-serving, perishable na- 
ture of the productions be borne in mind. We may 


Ixxxii Introduction 

fairly presume, also, that many lost plays, of which 
we have a record, appropriated the themes of the 
romances in ways which are not revealed to us by 
the titles. From what we positively know, however, 
we can infer that the theatrical area over which the 
burlesque in The Knight of the Burning Pestle radiated 
was a wide one. The satire must have fallen hard 
upon many a petty and now forgotten playwright, 
and have outraged the theatrical sense of his numerous 
and devoted clientele. How thoroughly warranted it 
was may be gathered from the brief notice which it 
is here desirable to give to one or two of the dramas 
which have been named. 

The only plays in the list which have a direct 
relation with The Knight of the Burning Pestle are 
Bold Beauchamps and The Four Prentices of London. The 
first of these is mentioned by the Wife in the In- 
duction, as a play which evidently stood well in the 
esteem of her theatrically informed husband ; but it 
is now lost. The Four Prentices of London, by Thomas 
Heywood, is foremost in Beaumont's mind among all 
the plays which he makes the butt of his ridicule. 
It is alluded to approvingly by the Citizen as authen- 
ticating the propriety of a grocer's prentice courting 
the daughter of a king ; it is drawn upon for a number 
of small objects of the burlesque, and, as has already 
been shown, Beaumont derived from it the idea of a 

No play could be more aptly illustrative of the 
tediously serious nonsense of the ch^valric drama 
which our author has turned to such humorous account 
than The Four PretUices of London. A rapid analysis 
of its plot will be useful in specifying the preposterous 
attributes of the whole class. 

The Earl of Bouillon, having been banished from 

Objects of the Satire Ixxxiii 

bis native land and deprived of his fortune, retires 
to London, where he lives privately as a citizen. 
His four sons he apprentices to four trades : Godfrey, 
the eldest, is bound to a mercer ; Guy, to a goldsmith ; 
Charles, to a haberdasher ; Eustace, the youngest, to 
a grocer. The father, weary of life, parts from his 
children, and sets out for the Holy Land, expecting 
there to find his death. But the brothers, who have 
high regard for their humble callings, but desire a 
more heroic career, follow the earl, out of their in- 
born love of adventure, enlisting under Robert of 
Normandy in his crusade against the infidels. Setting 
sail for France, they suffer shipwreck, and are sep- 
arated from one another. Godfrey is cast ashore in 
France, and, freeing certain citizens of Bouillon from 
attacking Spaniards, is proclaimed by them earl of 
his father s original domain. Guy is picked up on 
the shore of France, and carried to the court, where 
he is unsuccessfully wooed by the king's daughter; 
in martial wise, he protests that war is his only 
mistress. Charles is carried as far as Italy on a plank ! 
He there delivers his wandering father from the 
clutches of banditti, and manages himself to become 
chief of the lawless band, entertaining the virtuous 
resolve to lead them into the ways of a better life. 
Eustace floats in singular security to the coast of 
Ireland ; but the Irish kerns displease his knightly 
spirit, and he presently sets forth again toward Je- 
rusalem. After the prentices-errant have thus been 
fully launched upon their enterprise, Bella Franca, 
'their sister, follows them with zealous feete,* and 
thereupon this valiant family are gradually brought 
to the walls of the Holy City through divers and 
tortuous paths, in which their several adventures grow 
continually wilder and more improbable. Eustace 

f 2 

Ixxxiv Introduction 

suddenly, without any discernible explanation, finds 
himself in Italy, where he rescues the much belabored 
earl, his father, who this time is being maltreated 
and despoiled of his money-bags by a villain and an 
egregiously out-of-place comedy clown. Immediately 
afterward, Eustace meets Charles and his bandit fol- 
lowers. For some insufficient reason, the brothers 
fail to recognize each other, and Eustace falls upon 
the presumptive leader of thieves. Suddenly Bella 
Franca, pursued by an 'uncurteous* outlaw, breaks 
in upon them. After the conventional queries as to 
her mishap, the brothers fall to quarreling over the 
right of precedence in the lady's favor, being strangely 
unable to perceive that she is their own sister. All 
at once enters Tancred, County Palatine, who de- 
mands that the lady be given up to him as hostage 
of peace between the contestants. The difficulty is 
thus, for the time, settled ; and Charles and Eustace, 
being made attendants on the prince, receive knight- 
hood. Directly Robert of Normandy comes marching 
into Italy with his army, accompanied by the erst- 
while apprentices Godfrey and Guy, now, by fortune's 
favor, become Earl of BuUoigne and Lord of Lessing- 
ham respectively. Prince Tancred resents this un- 
heralded intrusion, and calls upon Charles to uphold 
his honor against Godfrey, who champions the Nor- 
man host. Neither prince wishes, however, to lose 
his highly prized knight, and the two combatants 
are straightway parted. The same separation is the 
result of an attempted match between Eustace and 
Guy. The princes decide to drop their strife, and 
to join armies against the heathen. All six of the 
heroes, however, fall into a stormy altercation over 
the possession of Bella Franca, and only on that 
lady's tearful announcement of an intention to scratch 

Objects of the Satire Ixxxv 

her ^Christall eyes out,' because of their brawling, 
do they deem it wise to desist The armies soon 
arrive in Asia, where long-winded defiances against 
the pagan hosts are indulged in for a considerable 
time, an outcome of which is the banishment of Guy 
and Eustace from the ranks on account of their quar- 
relsome rivalry over which of them shall bear the 
first challenge. Meanwhile, Bella Franca, distracted 
by the importimities of her many suitors, flees from 
the camp, accompanied by a French lady, who, out 
of her love for Guy, has followed the army. Bella 
and Eustace chance to meet in a forest, and, without 
any very clear reason, suddenly each awakens to the 
other's identity. Meantime Godfrey and Charles are 
discovered to each other before the walls of Jerusalem 
through the old earl, their father, whom they have 
rescued from captivity in the city. Soon after this, 
the banished Guy and Eustace are restored to favor 
through their sudden arrival, and their gallant repulse 
of the pagans in an encounter in which the Christians 
are being worsted. Learning of the identity of 
Charles and Godfrey, they themselves become known 
to each other, and, ultimately, to their brothers. At 
last, after many reverses, Jerusalem is conquered, 
and Guy, the one-time goldsmith's prentice, is made 
its king ! Robert of Normandy thereupon magnanim- 
ously bestows the crown of Sicily upon Eustace, and 
the crown of Cyprus upon Charles. Godfrey prefers 
to wear a crown of thorns ^ At the last moment 
enters Bella Franca, who, through Eustace, is made 
known to her rejoicing brothers. With her comes 

^ This motive seems to be reflected from the refusal of the historic 
^Godfrey of Bouillon, on his being elected King of Jerusalem, to wear a 
crown of gold in the place where the Saviour of the world had been 
crowned with thorns. Cf. Michaud, History of the Crusades I. 234. 

Ixxxvi Introduction 

the French lady, who turns out to be the French 
princess who had unsuccessfully tried to win the 
love of Guy at her father's court. Her continued 
loyalty at last prevails, and she is made the bride 
of Guy. Bella Franca bestows her hand upon Tan- 
cred, whom she has more affected than her other 
suitor, Robert of Normandy. Upon this apportion- 
ment of crowns and ladies, the play appropriately 

This flamboyant exposition of the impossible careers 
of four London apprentices, written in an absurdly 
pompous style, and crossed with innumerable strands 
from chivalric romance and tales of Oriental adven- 
ture, naturally flattered the vanity of the susceptible 
London shopkeepers, and as naturally lent itself to 
the ridicule of humorists like Beaumont. Its sprawling, 
disordered plot, its strange mixture of countries, man- 
ners, and classes, its illogical reverses, successes, 
concealments, and recognitions, and its whole array 
of preposterous improbabilities, are typical of the whole 
class to which it belongs ; and it was wisely chosen 
as a most deserving victim of the burlesque in The 
Knight of the Burning Pestle. 

Even more closely allied to the books of chivalry, 
however, than The Four Prentices is Sir Clyaman, Knight 
of the Golden Shield, and Sir Clamydes, the White 
Knight. This play, sometimes attributed to (Jeorge 
Peele, is evidently based directly upon some lost 
romance. It presents an odd jumble of ancient and 
mediaeval heroes (princes of northern Europe and 
Alexander the Great !), of classic and chivalric man- 
ners, of dragons, marshes, marvelous forests, enchanters, 
and incongruous comedy clowns, and of disjointed 
adventures extended in a few pages over the 
whole face of Europe ; in a word, it exhibits such a 

Olffeas rf Ae Sstm Icextm 

wildly romantic plot that it is an cpftnit of the 
whole complex of abs urdit ies vfaidi it is the ptv- 
pose of Beanmont to langfa down. 

Bat there is not spaaot to cfaaractcnze ■ inmrlr 
this extravaganza. We most leave mmociocdL too. 
plays like The Misfortumes ^ ArUmr^ wliicli. thoogii 
written apon the Senecan modeL set fordi the ro- 
mantic pecolarities of dieir original sources, and piars 
like CharUmayM and Orimmdm Pmrimm, mHA. tlKNigii 
steeped in a chivabic atmo^here. are oolr rcaotelT 
connected with the romances and diamas speaficaBj 
attacked by Beanmont. One example most soflSce 
to reveal the lineaments of a dramatic type wldcfa is 
a cardinal object of the bnrlesqoe in oar comedy. 

It was, of coarse, inevitable that this oimaoffing 
of overstrained, armatnral plays, and the commcMieis* 
wasteful preoccupation with the romances, should 
have made the judidous grieve, and have caDed fordi 
vigorous protests. As might be expected, the Puritans. 
the moralists, and the social satiiisis were ready with 
their invectives. Roger Asdiam s indictment of the 
Morte d' Arthur, already quoted, may be taken as a 
pattern of the opinions held by the graver leaders of 
public thought We may illustrate the scaiKlalized 
feelings of the Puritans by an extract from a book 
of one of their number. Edward Dering. entitled A 
Brief e and Necessary Catechism or Luiructkm, written 
in 1614. Dering is. indeed, speaking of the romances 
as affecting an older generation particulariy, but he 
has in mind the corrupting influence of this literature s 
subsequent developments. He says: 

For in tbese 6aj% in wluck there a §o {r<at Vjckzzs^^^um^su '4 
printing bookcs, ns indeed it makrfh n all dbe vctk, vl^^ '.an Viae^ 
it that hath aaj taite or fasumi <4 foodacaK. be ft s^n^tr u* »^&f^, 
if it had no other frnit. Vet this is ^reat k pl^sLizJ, thu m readiaj^ 
it, wc shovld keep our eie from nnch God^m^t and duldUh ranitf , 

Ixxxviii Introduction 

that now haue blotted so many papers. We see it al, & we moorn 
for griefe, so many as in spirit and truth do love the Lord : what 
multitude of bookes ful of all sin & abhominations, haue now filled 
the world I Nothing so childish, nothing so vaine, nothing so wanton, 
nothing so idle, which is not both boldly printed & plausibly taken, 
so that herein we haue fulfilled the wickednesse of our forefathers, 
& ouertaken them in their sins : They had their spiritual inchantments, 
in which they were bewitched, Beuis of Hamptoun, Guy of Warwick, 
Arthour of the roud table, Huon of Burdaux, Oliver of the Castel, the 
foure sons of Amyon, & a great many other of such childish folly. 
And yet more vanity than these, the witlesse deuices of Gargantua, 
Hawleglasse, Esape, Robinhood, Adam bell. Frier Rush, the fooles of 
Gotham, & a thousand such other. And yet of al the residue the 
most drunken imagination, with which they so defiled their festiual & 
high Holidaies, their legendary, their Saints Hues, their tales of Robin 
good fellow, & many other spirits, which Sathan had made, hel had 
printed, & were warranted to sale vnder the Popes priuiledge, to kindle 
in mens harts the sparks of superstition, that at last it might flame 
out into the fire of purgatory. These were in the former daies the 
subtle sleights of Sathan to occupy Christian wits in Heathen £uitasies. 

Dering proceeeds to show the iniquity of the lite- 
rature which has followed in his own day songs 

8l sonnets, unchaste fables, tragedies, ^and such 

But it was not only the Puritans who were shocked 
by some of the noisome features of this literature. 
That acute satirist, Thomas Nash, in his Anatomie of 
Absurditie, 1689, expressed a common sentiment in 
his attack on the contemporary versions and re- 
dactions of the romances : 

What else I pray you, doe these bable booke-mungers endeuor, but 
to repaire the ruinous wals of Venus court, to restore to the worlde 
that forgotten Legendary lisense of lying, to imitate a fresh the fan- 
tasticall dreams of those exiled Abbie-lubbers, from whose idle pens 
proceeded those wome out impressions of the feyned no where acts of 
Arthur of the round table, Arthur of litle Brittaine, Sir Tristram, 
Hewon of Burdeaux, the squire of low degree, the foure sons of 
Amon, with infinite others? 

And as late as 1653, we find this clever character- 
ization of the romances, as of a class of reading of 
which the baleful influence was still felt: 

Objects of the Satire 

Among aH the books that erer vcre thoogkt on. those cf kaigrt 
errantry and diephenfay hxoe been so rt i rrdingl y tzrnal aad Basgrrj. 
that h would arnnse a good pidgnKSt to ooeadcr to vfaat smage aad 

▼ast abcnnfitics some bnaginatioos hare stragj^ed the K;agfc£ cob- 

stantlj kiUiiig the gyaat, or it mqr he vhole sqndroats; the Dasxmd 
certainly to be rdiercd just npon the point of rsrisking : a finie chCde 
carried away out of his cradle, after some twca^ yean d auui esed to 
be the sone of some great Prince ; a pti after serca yean wandering 
and co-habiting and being stole camhr moA to be a iliglm . csher by a 

panterh, fire or fountain, and lastly all ending in marriape T^ese 

are the whcJe entertainments of books of this kzade. wkacs h&w prof- 
iuble they are, yon may jndge; how pr m icin c t 'ta eaElr sees, if 
they meet but with an intcntxre mdanchoiy and a sptrs. xpt to be 
orerbome by sach follies ^ 

It is not from the pampUeteeis and the preacbeis. 
however, but from the dramatists, that we now are 
able to glean the most extensive evidences of disap- 
proval among tfaoogfatfiil men. Plays of the better 
class are packed with satirical aUnsions to the fashicm 
of romance-reading. It would be profidess to list 
them here in their completeness: bat to sketch the 
general drift of the sentiment of the better plavwrights 
will be osefdl in showing that Beaumont's burlesque 
is expressive of the common attitude among the more 
gifted of his associates. These men. with their a;^- 
preciations of Uterary and dramatic values all rela- 
tively high, with ideals of their art usuaUv lifted above 
mere motives of expediency and money-getting, 
looked with scorn and derision upon plebeian taste, 
and upon those of their humbler fellow-craftsmen 
who truckled to that taste in the fabrication of the 
preposterous melodramas which satisfied it Buries; tj^ 
episodes are to be discovered in Ben Jonson. in 
Chapman, and in Beaumont and Fletcher apart froni 
The Knight of the Burning PetiU. while fun is ev-K^^ 
where poked at the belles and beaux and mushr'^/'/rr, 

» Quoted by Jnscerand, TV Em^LJ^ Sm^l m Uu 7«*r */ ,\Hak^:y^r^ 
P 404. 

xc Introduction 

knights, whose affectations were engendered largely 
by their reading of romances. 

From the first infancy of the drama, some sense 
of the ridiculous features of popular stories seems 
to have been felt. As early as 1537, an old inter- 
lude, entitled Thersytesy developed traces of burlesque 
upon Greek tales of heroism and the romances of 
chivalry. The didactic aim of this performance is 
to 'declare howe that the greatest boesters are not 
the greatest doers.' The management of the plot 
through which the lesson is evolved is exceedingly 
childish and farcical, but the play's satirical intent 
is manifest. Directly, the satire is leveled at the 
prevalent tendency to braggadocio, but indirectly it 
shows that that tendency was nurtured by the kind 
of literary pabulum upon which the common people 
were fed. The classical boaster, Thersytes, enters, 
and announces his ability to overcome all heroes, 
both ancient and modem. He challenges to the 
trial, among others, King Arthur and his famous 
knights, and Robin Hood and Little John. He an- 
nounces his intention to seek adventures, to join 
battle anywhere ' in Wales or in Kent,' and to over- 
come all manner of wild beasts. His first chance to 
attest his prowess soon arrives. The incident is truly 
quixotic, and, though conceived in the most infantile 
spirit, is undoubtedly intended, from one point of 
view, as a burlesque upon the adventures of knights- 
errant. We read : ' Here a snail must appear unto him, 
and he must look fearfully upon the snail, saying: 

But what monster do I see now 

Coming hithcrward with an armed brow 1 

Marry, sir, fy, fy, I do sweate for fear: 

I thought I had croked but too timely here. 

Hence, thou beast, and pluck in thy horns. 

How, how, my servants, get you shield and spear, 

Objects of the Satire xci 

And let as worry and kill this monster here. 

God's arms, the monster cometh toward me still, 
Except I fight manfully, it will me surely kill I 

^(Then be must fight against the snail with his club.)* 
The snail still refusing to draw in her horns, Ther- 
sytes throws his club away. '(Here he must fight 
then with his sword against the snail, and the snail 
draweth her horns in.) ' Thersytes is triumphant, and 

Now in other countries both far and near 
Mo deeds of chivalry I will go inquire. 

Upon this utterance, Miles, a soldier, who has been 
scornfully witnessing the encounter with the snail, 
challenges Thersytes to a combat. '(And he begin- 
neth to fight with him, but Thersytes must run away, 
and hide him behind his mother*s back.) ' Miles calls 

Thou that dost seek giants to conquer 
Come forth, if thou dare, and in this place appear. 

Receiving no response, Miles disappears for a time, 
but presently re-enters and falls upon the hero, who 
'must run away and leave his club and sword.* 
Thereupon, Miles delivers himself of the play's moral 
as to the vanity of boasting, and the action ends. 

The didacticism of this grotesque piece is, of course, 
uppermost; but its irreverent use of romantic ma- 
chinery shows that very early the playwrights began 
to turn to humorous account the features of popular 
literature. In the fully developed drama, the most 
pronounced ridicule, outside our play, passed upon 
books of chivalry and the contemporary manners in- 
spired by them, is to be found in Ben Jonson and 

It was inevitable that Jonson, the pugnacious de- 
fender of classicism, should have treated with the 
utmost contempt the wild romanticism of this litera- 

xcii Introduction 

ture and of its theatrical outgrowths. His indictment 
of the absurd plots of such plays as The Four Pren- 
tices of London is well known: he says that miracles 
upon the stage are what please the people, 

so if a child could be bom in a play, and grow up to a man, in the 
first scene, before he went off the stage : and then after to come forth 
a squire, and be made a knight to travel between the acts, and do 
wonders in the Holy Land, or elsewhere ; kill Paynims, wild boars, 
dun cows, and other monsters; beget him a reputation, and marry an 
emperor's daughter for his mistress ; and at last come home lame, and 
all-to-be-laden with miracles.^ 

He says elsewhere that he would have expected 
vengeance from the fire-god had he compiled 

Amadis de Gaul, 
The Esplandians, Arthurs, Palmerins, and all 
The learned library of Don Quixote, 
And so some goodlier monster. had begot;' 

and his other scattered references to tales of chivalry 
are invariably scornful.' 

Jonson's most extensive satire on the affectations 
cultivated in the Paulas men and owners of purchased 
knighthoods by romance-reading is in his caricature 
of Puntarvolo, 'a vain -glorious knight, wholly con- 
secrated to singularity,' who figures in Every Man 
Out of his Humor. This ceremonious fop holds 
chivalric ' dialogues and discourses between his horse, 
himself, and his dog,' and *will court his own lady, 
as she were a stranger never encountered before.' 
His manner of carrying on his stereotyped love- 
making is to appear under his wife's window every 
morning, and, by the winding of his hunter's horn, 
call her forth to the ordeal. First, he summons his 
wife's waiting-woman, upon whose appearance at the 

* Magnetic Lady I. I. 
* Underwoods^ ed. Gifford, 8. 400. 
• Cf. The Alchemist 4. 4 ; The Silent Woman 4. I ; Every Man in 
his Humour 3. I. 4 ; -4 Tale of a Tub 3. 3 ; The New Jnn^ I. i. 

Objects of the Satire xciu 

window, he exclaims: 'Stay: mine eye hath, on the 
instant, through the bounty of the window, received 
the form of a nymph,' &c. Then follows a satirical 
colloquy, in which be draws from his interlocutor all 
sorts of complimentary information about himself, 
asking her about the lord of the ' castle,' whether or 
not he is courteous, magnanimous, bountiful, learned, 

devout to all of which queries she is trained to 

respond in the affirmative. Upon the appearance of 
his own lady, he bursts forth in this fashion: 

What more than heavenly pulchritude in this ? 

O, I am planet-struck, and in yond sphere 
A brighter star than Venus doth appear. 

There is more vaporing of the same sort, ending 
with this announcement to his 'most debonair and 
luculent lady' : 

I am a poor knight-errant, lady, that by hunting in the adjacent 
forest, was, by adventure, in the pursuit of a hart, brought to this 
place ; which hart, dear madam, escaped by enchantment : the evening 
approaching, myself, and servant wearied, my suit is, to enter your 
fair castle and refresh me. 

His wife, true to her part in keeping up the fiction, 
demurs as to the propriety of receiving a strange 
knight into her castle, but says at last: 

I am resolved to entertain you to the best of my power ; which I 
acknowledge to be nothing, valued with what so worthy a person may 
deserve. Please you but stay, while I descend.* 

Puntarvolo is, of course, one of Jonson's broadly 
tTLSLggtxzttA 'humor' studies, but his antics expressively 
denote the absurd vagaries entertained by his class 
through their acquaintance with romances. A truer 
delineation of the fantastic dreams and desires in- 
stilled into the bourgeois society through this agency 
is that in Eastward Ho, written by Chapman chiefly, 
though with the probable collaboration of Jonson. 

* Cf. Every Man out of his Humour 2. I. 

xciv Introduction 

The purse-ridden Sir Petronel Flash has, by false 
accounts of castles, which he is popularly supposed 
to have won from giants, &c., dazzled the fancy of 
Gertrude, daughter of an old goldsmith. Touchstone. 
By his deceptions he weds her, gets possession of 
her maternal estate, and sends her on a fooFs errand 
in a coach to find the visionary castles, while he 
takes wing for America. Chapman humorously 
depicts the simple-minded Gertrude's comical despair, 
and her appeals to the authority of the romances: 

Would the knight o'the sun, or Palmeiin of Elngland, have used 
their ladies so, S]m ? or Sir Lancelot ? or Sir Tristram ? 

But her loss is for the time irretrievable, and she 
ends with consoling herself by means of a spiteful 
comparison of the prosy knighthoods nowadays with 
the glorious knighthoods of old time. 

The Faithful Friends, a play somewhat doubtfully 
ascribed to Beaumont and Fletcher, contains an under- 
plot in which the braggart knight Sir Perg^mus 
draws out to great length the chivalric lingo and 
ceremonies which seem to have been cultivated by 
the romance-nurtured dandies. These featiures of the 
play do not diflfer in essential character from those 
of Every Man Out of his Humour^ just sketched, while 
the satire is inferior in point and originality; there- 
fore specific notice need not be given it. 

Beside these three our four considerable treatments 
of the romance -habit, the old plays contain innu- 
merable condemnatory flings at it in brief allusions. 
Shakespeare gives the romances small notice, but he 
is never complimentary^. Dekker uses them for iron- 
ical purposes in The Untrussing of the Humorous Poet 
Marston attacks them with his usual scurrility-. 

* Cf. / I/enr^ IV 2, 2 \ 2 Henry /K 3. 2 ; Much Ado 2. I ; Lear 3. 4 ; 
King John i. 2 ; Henry F I. I. • Ct The Malcontent I. I. 

Objects of the Satire xcv 

Beaumont and Fletcher continually poke fun at them ^. 
The plays of the later dramatists, particularly Shirley, 
Nabbes, and Habington, are seamed with contemp- 
tuous references to them'. These small satirical al- 
lusions and episodes in the old dramatists, of little 
significance singly, in their collective aspect form a 
convincing evidence of the prevalence and the del- 
eterious effect of the fashion of romance-reading, and 
illuminate to an invaluable degree the cause and point 
of Beaumont s elaborate satire. 

b. Miscellaneous Stage-favorites of the Citizens. 

The emphasis of the literary satire in The Knight 
of the Burning Pestle is upon the romances and the 
chivalric drama. There are oblique thrusts, however, 
at a class of city stage-favorites, which, for lack of 
a better term, may be called the civic drama. This 
was a numerous series of plays which flamboyantly 
set forth the lives of famous London worthies, and 
extolled the virtues of London shopkeepers and ap- 
prentices. It is productions of this sort which the 
Citizen, in the Induction of The Knight of the Burning 
Pestle, insists should be substituted for the bill offered 
by the Prologue; he is only pacified when the Wife 
suggests the even more delectable treat to be en- 
joyed through Ralph's essay of a chivalric role. The 
Legend of Whittington, a lost play, The Life and Death 
of Sir Thomas Gresham^ a play written by Heywood 
under the actual title of If you kfww not me, you 
know no body^ and a play which the Wife calls Jane 
Shore, but which is probably Heywood*s First and 

* Cf. I^u//' a fi'tfe 4. 2 ; IVt/d Goose Chase I. i ; Lzft/e French 
iMwyer 2. 3 ; Scornful Lady 3. i ; Philaster 5. 4 ; &c. 

• Cf., for example, Shirley's Bird in a Cage 3. 2, and Honoria and 
Afammon 2. I ; Nabbes' Tottenham Court 4. 7. 

xcvi Introduction 

Second Parts of King Edward the Fourth^ are the rep- 
resentatives of the type mentioned in the Induction. 
The fact that egregiously open addresses were 
made to the vanity of the tradesmen is illustrated, 
indeed, in such a play as The Four Prentices of Lon- 
don. It will easily be seen that The Four Prentices 
is intended to idealize the supposititious valor of the 
London shop-boys, and that to do so it stops short 
of no limit of probability or reason. Indeed, Hey- 
wood inscribes his preface of the printed copy * to 
the honest and high-spirited prentises, the readers,* 
compliments them on their absurdly pretentious mil- 
itary drills in the newly revived practice of arms in 
the Artillery Gardens, and concludes thus : 

But to retume agayne to you, my braue spirited Prentises, vpon 
whom I haue freely bestowed these Foure, I wish jrou all, that haue 
their courages and forwardnesse, their noble Fates and Fortunes. 

^The noble Fates and Fortunes' of the sons of 
Bouillon were, then, deliberately set forth as within 
the scope of possible attainment by the valiant ap- 
prentices, and were doubtless so looked upon by 
those gullible youths. That their masters, too, re- 
garded the fiction as authentic and praiseworthy is 
evidenced by the Citizen's triumphant appeal to it 
as a witness that a grocer's boy may properly court 
a king's daughter, if he so aspires (4. 64). The lines 
of the play itself contain numbers of straightforward 
appeals to the tradesmen's pride of caste and wealth. 
The noble four loudly proclaim the honor and dig- 
nity of their tradesmen's calling. Godfrey declares: 

I hold it no disparage to my birth 

Though I be bom an Earl, to have the skill 

And the full knowledge of the Mercer's trade. 

Guy expatiates upon the worth of the goldsmith's 
vocation as a means to purchase ^steadfast wealth,' 

Objects of the Satire xcvu 

while ' state ' may waste, ' and towring honours fall ' ; 
and Charles cries out to the old earl, his father : 

Or should I say the Citty-trades are base 
For such a great mans sonnes to take on them : 
Your fatherly regard would straight aduise mee 
To chastise my rebellious thoughts. 

There is more of the same sort. It is sufficient to 
say that Eustace proudly emblazons the grocer's arms 
upon his ensign, and Guy adopts the goldsmith's 
emblem ; while throughout the headlong rush of ad- 
ventures the heroes loquaciously signify that they 
are exerting their prowess to ' try what London pren- 
tises can doe.' 

The other plays named by the spectators were 
palatable to them for much the same reason as was 
The Four Prentices. The Legend of Whittington was un- 
doubtedly a dramatization of the familiar story of 
that celebrated grandee and his cat. The fabulous 
nature of the tale must have made a deep impression 
upon the childishly credulous fancy of the commoners 
of the time, and, through the embodiment of their 
commercial dignity and importance in this eminent 
representative, their pride must have been immeas- 
urably flattered. 

The second part of If you know not me is largely 
devoted to a laudatory account of the public bene- 
factions of the famous merchant Sir Thomas Gresham, 
particularly his erection of the great Bourse known 
as the Royal Exchange. The play is tediously drawn 
out in long-winded discourses, in which there are 
many bombastic descriptions of the careers of ^ prov- 
ident, valiant and learned citizens,' now gone to 
their reward, and many boastful utterances from Sir 
Thomas himself regarding the magnanimity of his 
present enterprise, which, however, he incautiously 

xcviii Introduction 

remarks, is undertaken that thereafter young trades- 
men established in the Exchange may 

speake in Grcsham's praise, 
In Grcshsun's work we did our fortunes raise. 

What little action there is moves lumberingly along, 
till, with much splurge and display, the climax is 
reached in the christening of the building under the 
hand of Queen Elizabeth herself. Monotonous and 
dramatically hollow as is the piece, its popularity 
among the purse-proud brethren of Sir Thomas was 
natural enough, but it was as naturally exposed to 
the gibes and ridicule of dramatists who could despise 
its obsequious flattery of the citizens, and detect its 
pretentiousness and absurdity. 

A production more creditable to Heywood is his 
King Edward IV. The main theme is concerned with 
the king's mistress, Jane Shore, the story of whose 
rise from obscurity, brief enjoyment of grandeur and 
singular power, final downfall and repentance, is 
treated with much of the simple dramatic effectiveness 
and ' homely tenderness ' for which Heywood is famous. 
An underplot has to do with the besieging of London 
by the Bastard Falconbridge, and the valiant defence of 
the same by the Lord Maior and the Citizens. It is in 
this latter feature that our Citizen doutbless takes 
his greatest delight. Here the worthiness of himself 
and his fellows is set forth in glowing colors. 
Their apprentices bravely defy the rebels in these 
terms : 

Nay scorn us not that we are prentices. 
The Chronicles of England can report 
What memorable actions we haue done, 
To which the daies achievement shall be knit. 
To make the volume larger than it is. 

The prentices make good their boast in the stirring 
repulses which they give the enemy. The army of 

Objects of the Satire xcix 

citizens at length gains the victory, the leaders are 
knighted by the king, and the episode concludes 
with the Lord Mayor's somewhat unprovoked, but 
edifying, account of his rise from a grocer's appren- 
ticeship in his youth to his present high dignity. 

The plebeian appeal of such plays as these is 
self-evident*. Another of Beaumont's objects of at- 
tack is a nondescript drama of marvels and adven- 
ture, represented by ' The story of Queen Elenor/ 
Mucedorus, and The Travailes of the Three English 
Brothers. Queen Eleanor's story is told in Peele's 
King Edward the First, a sub-plot of which is entitled 
the sinking of Queene Elinor, who sunck at Charing 
crosse, and rose againe at Potters-hith, now natned Queene- 
hith. This fate was supposed to have been meted 
out to the unpopular, but really virtuous, princess 
because of her reported murder of the Lord Mayor's 
wife, and its incidents were very absurdly set forth 
for the stage in Peele's version of the scandal. 
Plays like Mucedorus are of a hybrid order, develop- 
ing in a most childish fashion some of the features 

of the romances such as rescues of fair damsels 

from beasts and wild-men- of- the-woods together 

with the broadest buffoonery of the old-time Vice, 
through his descendant, the clown. The Travailes of 
the Three English Brothers was written by Day, Rowley, 

and Wilkins. The fortunes of the three Shirleys 

Thomas, Anthony, and Robert at the courts of 

Persia and other Eastern countries, form an interesting 
chapter in the history of Elizabethan travelers. Many 
fabulous stories were related about these men, and 

* It is concisely illustrated by Earle in his Microcosmography^ 1628, 
in his character of * A Mere Gull Citizen ' : * He is one loves to hear the 
famous acts of citizens, whereof the gilding of the cross [by Ed. I in 
memory of Queen Elenor] he counts the glory of this age, and the four 
prentices of London above all the nine worthies.* 

g 2 

c Introduction 

Day and his associates incorporated them into their 
play. This production is a very odd affair. The 
action is propelled by means of dumb shows and 
choruses, which transport the brothers all over Europe 
and Asia in a fashion more disconnected than that 
of The Four Prentices itself ; and, after many strange 
happenings, the plot finds issue in the marriage of 
Sir Robert Shirley to the Sophy of Persia's daughter, 
concluding with the christening of their first-bom in 

dumb show an incident which our Citizen wishes 

Ralph to enact (4. 44). 

Finally, a word should be said upon that much 
belabored old stage-piece. The Spanish Tragedy of 
Thomas Kyd. As is well known, the playwrights are 
never tired of casting slurs at the rant and blood- 
and-thunder fustian of this long-lived favorite of the 
citizens. Modem critics have found considerable dra- 
matic skill and real tragic power beneath the weak- 
nesses of the old play, but Kyd's contemporaries in 

the drama could only sneer perhaps incited by 

some feeling of jealousy of its unequalled popularity. 
Beaumont and Fletcher make their most considerable 
sport of it in The Knight of the Burning Pestle. As 
early as the Induction, its plebeian patronage is 
denoted by the Citizen's declaring that Ralph was 
to have 'played Jeronimo with a shooemaker for a 
wager' before the wardens of the Grocers' Company. 
In two later passages it is outspokenly parodied. 
At the opening of The Spanish Tragedy, Andrea's 
ghost enters and says : 

My name is Don Andrea ; my descent, 
Though not ignoble, yet inferior far 
To gratious fortunes of my tender jrouth. 

These lines are ridiculed in our play (4. 442-3) by 
Ralph's utterance: 

Objects of the Satire ci 

My name is Ralph, by due descent though not ignoble I, 
Yet £ur inferior to the stock of gracious grocery. 

The whole of Ralph's concluding speech (5. 319-69), 
when his ghost enters with ' a forked arrow through 
his head,' seems to be conceived in a spirit of bur- 
lesque upon Don Andrea's declamation. A few definite 
parallels can be established. Andrea's ghost begins : 

When this etemall substance of my soule 
Did Hue imprisond in my wanton flesh, 
Ech in their function serving others need, 
I was a Courtier in the Spanish Court. 

Thus Ralph : 

When I was mortal, this my costive corps 
Did lap up figs and raisins in the Strand. 

Andrea continues : 

For there in prime and pride of all my years. 
My duteous service and deserving love, 
In secret I possest a worthy dame. 
Which hight sweet Belimperia by name. 

Ralph says correspondingly: 

Where sitting, I espied a lovely dame. 

Whose master wrought with lingel and with awl. 

From here on the speeches diverge according to the 
difference between Ralph's and Andrea's narratives 
of their achievements in life. There seems to be 
a connection, however, in the accounts of their 
deaths. Andrea says : 

But in the harvest of my summer joys. 
Death's winter nipt the blossoms of my bliss. 

Though totally dissimilar in content, Ralph's grotesque 
description may be a parody on Andrea's solemn 
utterance. Ralph has it: 

Then coming home, and sitting in my shop 
With apron blue, Death came into my stall 
To cheapen <iq%unfitae ; but ere I 
Could take the bottle down and fill a taste. 
Death caught a pound of pepper in his hand. 
And sprinkled all my face and body o'er. 
And in an instant vanished away. 

cii Introduction 

Lastly, there seems to be an intentionally ludicrous 
contrast drawn between the final havens of these 
two martial souls. When Andrea has arrived in 
Hades, Rhadamant declares : 

He died in wane, and must to Martial fields. 

But Ralph says, after describing the singular manner 
of his decease: 

Then took I up my bow and shaft in hand, 
And walk*t into Moorfields to cool mjrself. 

2. The Manners of Jacobean Audiences. 

Perhaps the feature of The Knight of the Burning 
Pestle which is the most remote from modem com- 
prehension is the conduct of the Citizen and his 
Wife. No amount of extraneous description or 
passing allusion in Jacobean literature can re-create 
for us the popular manners which Beaumont has 
typified in the behavior of his rough-and-ready spec- 
tators. To come into proper sympathy with these 
good people, one must realize them, not through 
written accounts of the rude social life of that olden 
time, but through a free exercise of his own creative 
imagination. He must project himself into a vanished 
civilization, whose rough, hearty life was essentially 
different from our modem urbanity and restraint, and 
he must make that life his own. Only by so doing 
can he accept with full relish and conviction the 
forceful, realistic humor of Beaumont's satire. 

Most of all, for the right understanding of The 
Knight of the Burning Pestle, the modem playgoer 
must transport himself in imagination into the con- 
ditions which prevailed in the common theatre of the 
time of James the First. He must hold before his 
mental vision as clearly as may be the outlines of 

Objects of the Satire ciii 

the Jacobean playhouse its high circular interior, 

roofless for the most part, and lighted by the open 
sky; its primitve stage, made of rough timbers pro- 
jecting into the centre of the yard, and wholly de- 
void of curtains or of scenery, save for a few tra- 
verses and painted cloths; its low-thatched gallery, 
running around the walls at a short distance from 
the ground ; and its more decorative balconies above 
and behind the platform, which are reserved for the 
well-to-do spectators. He must then bring into his 
mind's eye one of the typical audiences of London. 
He must picture the aristocratic, haughty occupants 
of the ' twelve-penny rooms ' at the rear or sides of 
the stage. He must look with proper deference upon 
the gaudily dressed and copiously mannered gallants 
who are seated in cherished prominence upon the 
stage itself, where they blazon forth their finery, and, 
with complacent skill, blow fantastically fashioned 
wreaths of tobacco smoke, to the admiration or the 
envious opprobrium of all ' the opposed rascality ' down 
in the yard below ; or who, better still, are stretched 
their whole resplendent length upon the very boards, 
*the very Rushes where the Comedy is to daunce, 
yea, and vnder the very state of Cambises himselfe,' 
where their recumbent forms interfere mightly with 
the business of the actors, who have to shuffle about 
as best they can in the narrow space which is yet 
vouchsafed to them. But still further must our hy- 
pothetical modem divest himself of his accustomed 
notions of a theatre familiar to his own experience, 
with its comfortable furnishings, its highly finished 
appointments, and its sleek and placid patrons; he 
must in imagination shove his way into the midst 
of the noisy, jostling throng gathered upon the bare 
earth there, and crowded about the very edge of the 

civ Introduction 

stage itself in zealous determination to draw out 
every iota of their sixpence worth of dehght from 
whatever dramatic display that unpromising structure 
may set forth. It is a motley and turbulent assem- 
blage ^yeomen, tradesmen, sailors, quarrelsome ap- 
prentices, tittering servant-girls, and aggressive city 
wives, with here and there, mayhap, a furtive Puritan 
brother, who has slipped away from his disapproving 
fold to glance for a wicked hour upon the ' vanity,' 
and snatch a fleeting and fearful joy from this high 
carnival of the ungodly. 

Here it is that our translated spectator will find 
the worthy grocer, accompanied by his bustling 
wife and his stage-struck apprentice-boy Ralph. 
The good man is protesting loudly to his assenting 
neighbors against the impertinence of that placard 
hanging from the rafters of the stage, which an- 
nounces that the play to be presented is called The 
London Merchant. There is assuredly some sinister 
meaning in this name, for have not numerous stage- 
pieces in these days, under cover of just such a 
smooth-sounding tide as this, hurled ridicule and in- 
sult at the honorable tradesmen of London, who are 
the salt of the land, and the support and prop of 
the state? And, indeed, have not many of their 
number of best degree and quality been brought 
into disrepute by these rascally players, so that more 
than once the Worshipful Company of Aldermen, and 
even the Lords of tiie Privy Council themselves, 
have interfered and forbidden the libelous perform- 
ances? And, moreover, is it not their money and 
their patronage by which these shows are maintained, 
and why should they not have in return for their 
outlay whatsoever kind of an entertainment may 
please them ? Why should they not have something 

Objects of the Satire cv 

presented ' notably in honour of the commons of the 
city,' such as The Legend of Whittington, The Building 
of the Royal Exchange^ or The Four Prentices of London ? 

As the interested modem listens to this garrulous 
shopkeeper's assumption of authority over the im- 
mediate behavior of the dramatic muse, he finds 
himself little by little drawn into sympathy with an 
unwonted point of view, and it seems altogether 
natural, and expressively human, when the indignant 
worthy, in a gathering storm of wrath, suddenly pushes 
his way through the excited crowd, leaps bodily upon 
the stage, throttles the astonished Prologue, who has 
just entered to speak the accustomed preamble, and 
shouts in that functionary's defenseless ear: 'Hold 

your peace, goodman boy ! this seven years there 

hath been plays at this house, I have observed it, 
you have still girds at citizens; and now you call 
your play The London Merchant. Down with your 
title, boy ! down with your title ! ' 

When once the beholder has been swept into the 
spirit of this vigorous conduct, it seems not at all a 
bizarre or incredible circumstance that presently the 
agitated Wife should also go clambering up the 
stage, nor that, after her due obeisance to the usually 
haughty, but in this case indulgent, gallants, she 
should abet her irate spouse in his stormy protest 
against the bill proposed. And it seems quite in the 
natural order of life that she should volubly insist 
upon giving the boy Ralph a chance to exercise his 
vaunted gift for histrionics, or, as an upshot of the 
whole dispute, that Ralph should actually be assigned 
a role as a valiant grocer-errant, and be allowed to 
scramble through the five acts of the comedy as best 

he may to the slight impairment of The London 

Merchant^ to be sure, but to the vast delectation of 

cvi Introduction 

his master and mistress, and to them a welcome relief 
from the expected pertness of the appointed play. 
In this vivid creation of the Citizen and his Wife, 
Beaumont is but striking oflF with perfect accuracy 
the assurance and actual manners of his own theatrical 
public, who tried to overrule the playwrights, and 
not infrequently succeeded in dictating the produc- 
tions of the stage. There is, of course, an essentially 
fanciful element in the interwoven antics of Ralph, 
but the boisterous conduct of the spectators is no- 
wise overdrawn. Indeed, its delineation seems to be 
restrained, if we may accept as fact the following 
account of theatrical audiences by a contemporary 
of Beaumont : 

Men come not to study at a playhouse, but love such expressions 
and passages which with ease insinuate themselves into their capacities. 
Lingua, that learned comedy of the contention betwixt the five senses 
for the superiority, is not to be prostituted to the common stage, but 
is only proper for an academy ; to bring them Jack Drum's Enter- 
tainmenty Greens Tu Quoque^ The Devil of Edmonton^ and the like ; 
or if it be on holidays, when Sailors, Watermen, Shoemakers, Butchers, 
and Apprentices, are at leisure, then it is good policy to amaze those 
violent spirits with some tearing tragedy full of fights and skirmishes, 
as the Guelph and Ghibbelines, Greeks and Trojans, or The Three 
London Apprentices ^, which commonly ends in six acts, the spectators 
frequently mounting the stage^ and making a more bloody catastrophe 
among themselves than the players did. I have known upon one of 
these festivals, but especially at Shrove-tide, where the players have 
been appointed, notwithstanding their bills to the contrary, to act 
what a major part of the company had a mind to; sometimes Tamer- 
laine, sometimes Jugurth, sometimes The Jew of Malta, and sometimes 
parts of all these ; and at last, none of the three taking, they were 
forced to undress and put ofi* their tragic habits, and conclude the day 
with The Merry Milkmaids. And unless this were done, and the 
popular humor satisfied, as sometimes it so fortuned that the players 
were refractory, the benches, the tiles, the laths, the stones, oranges, 
apples, nuts, flew about most liberally ; and as there were mechanics 
of all professions, they fell every one to his own trade, and dissolved 
a house in an instant, and made a ruin of a stately fabric*. 

* Probably Heywood's Four Prentices of London is here meant 

* Ga3rton, Festivous Notes Upon Don Quixote^ 1654, p. 27 1. 

Objects of the Satire cvii 

This graphic account gives us a clear index to the 
code of public manners, and the irresponsible criticism 
of plays, which Beaumont's acute but kindly satire 
sets forth in a delightfully humorous fashion in The 
Knight of the Burning Pestle. It was of course quite 
inevitable that such spectacular exhibitions of human 
nature in the rough should have attracted the play- 
wrights. In modified form, they were used for pur- 
poses of characterization by other dramatists besides 
Beaumont. In Summer's Last Will and Testament, prob- 
ably performed at some nobleman's castle in 1692, 
Thomas Nash has Henry the Eighth's jester, Will 
Summer, sit upon the stage, flout the actors, and 
cast satirical flings at the themes of the play. In the 
last act of Middleton's Mayor of Queenborough, Simon, 
an illiterate tanner who has become mayor of his 
native town, is made to break in upon a play which 
he thinks is being improperly acted, and assume a 
role himself, to his ultimate discomfiture through 
having his pockets picked by one of the cast, whose 
part necessitates this indignity. Simon's interested 
and credulous participation in the feigned occurences, 
as though they were all real events, and his inter- 
posed comments upon the relative cleverness of the 
actors, bear a marked resemblance to the conduct 
of our Citizen and his Wife. Randolph, in The Muses' 
Looking Glass, acted about 1636, has two Puritans 
inveigled into witnessing a play, and uses the spec- 
tator-motive to satirize the Puritans' bigoted opposition 
to the stage, on the one hand, and, on the other, 
to try to convert these skeptics to a beUef in its 
moralizing influence. Brome, in his Antipodes^ 1638, 
humorously portrays an unsophisticated country- 
woman, Diana by name, who sits in the audience, 
and makes naYve comments upon the play, this 

cviii Introduction 

being her first experience of the theatre. These 
treatments of the spectator-motive are illustrative of 
such contemporary manners as are depicted by Beau- 
mont, but they are slight incidental sketches, while 
in The Knight of the Burning Pestle the Citizen and 
his Wife are in the centre of attention, and are the 
prime movers of the action. 

It was left to Beaumont and to Ben Jonson, in- 
deed, to give the fullest exhibitions of the uncouth- 
ness and the arrogance of their theatrical public. 
The manner of their delineations varied according 
to the purposes and the peculiar genius of the two 
men. Jonson, the cynic, the scomer of human kind, 
warped and distorted his exponents of the popular 
taste into grotesque caricatures, which symbolized 
his personally biased outlook upon his audiences ; 
and, heavy moralist that he was, he laid on his blows 
with unsparing severity, often directing the whole 
movement, moreover, to the exposition of some artistic 
or ethical thesis rather than to the truly dramatic 
exposition of life itself. Jonson fumes and rails and 
vituperates in the very face of his audience. He 
squarely tells the groundlings that they are a 'rude 
barbarous crew, a people that have no brains,* who 
'will hiss anything that mounts above their ground- 
ed * capacities ^ ; and he says the capricious gallants 
' have such a habit of dislike in all things, that they 
will approve nothing, be it never so conceited or 
elaborate ; but sit dispersed, making faces, and spitting, 
wagging their upright ears, and cry, fiUhy ! filthy .', 
simply uttering their own condition'*. In the In- 
duction of Cynthia's Revels^ he sums up, with the most 
acrid denunciation, the various sorts of stupiditiy and 
presumption in his audience which excite his wrath : 

* 7%^ Case is Altered 2. 4. « Ibid. 

Objects of the Satire cix 

As some one civet-wit among you, that knows no other learning 
than the price of satin and velvets ; nor other perfection than the 
wearing of a neat suit ; and yet will censure as desperately as the most 
professed critic in the house, presuming his clothes should bear him 
out in it Another, whom it hath pleased nature to furnish with more 
beard than brains, prunes his mustaccio, lisps, and, with some score 
of affected oaths, swears down all that sit about him ; * That the old 
Hieronimo, as it was first acted, was the only best and judiciously 
penned play in Europe.' A third great-bellied juggler talks of twenty 
years since, and when Monsieur was here, and would enforce all wits 
to be of that fashion, because his doublet is still so. A fourth miscalls 
all by the name of fustian that his grounded capacity cannot aspire 
to. A fifth only shakes his bottle-head, and out of his corky brain 
squeezeth out a pitiful learned face, and is silent 

These abusive denunciations are typical of Ben. He 
lengthily draws out more of the same sort through 
the medium of the spectators Dampley, in The Mag- 
netic Lady^ and the Gossips, in The Staple of News^ 
through Leatherhead's rascally catering to the ple- 
beian public*s low taste by means of his puppet-shows, 
in the last act of Bartholomew Fair, and through the 
well-known preachments of Jonson's spokesman, Asper, 
upon the purposes of dramatic art and the contempti- 
bility of popular opinion, in Every Man out of his Humour. 
Ben^s harsh and untempered invectives, expository 
as they are of the boorish manners and shallow the- 
atrical judgment of the playwrights' average auditors, ^ 
have little in common with Beaumont's satirical meth- 
od. Beaumont is every inch a dramatist, and never 
a moralizer or a self-opinionated denouncer. He had, 
indeed, had reason enough for invective, for, early 
in 1610, the 'many-headed bench* had hissed from v 
the boards his colleague Fletcher's beautiful pastoral, 
The Faithful Shepherdess^ and he had written to his 
mortified friend some indignant verses on the stu- 
pidity and injustice of the ignorant rabble, 

Scarce two of which can understand the laws 
Which they should judge by, nor the parties cause ; 

ex Introduction 

yet who, even 

as the boy doth dance 
Between the acts, will censure the whole play*. 

It is sometimes very naturally surmised that The Knight 
of the Burning Pestle was written as a rebuke to the 
city for its rejection of The Faithful Shepherdess^^ but 
if that is so, the author has wholly submerged the 
personal motive, and refrained from expressed de- 
nunciation. Like a true dramatist, he himself is 
completely non-commital. He allows his bigoted 
citizens to be exposed to humiliating ridicule through 
their own self-projected absurdities, and the process 
is neither hindered nor abetted by interpretations in- 
jected by the author from without. The satire is a 
faithful reflex of actual life, wholly unspoiled by the 
tang and asperity of the cantankerous Ben's admix- 
tures. It is inwrought with the texture of the piece 
itself; it is conceived, not as a polemic or a diatribe, 
but as a pure expression of vital dramatic humor. 

3. Minor Objects of the Satire. 

During the course of The Knight of the Burning 
Pestle, Beaumont laughs in an indulgent way at 
numbers of the small foibles and superstitions of the 
commoners. The Wife's vociferous repugnance to 
the new fashion of smoking tobacco (1. 224-8); her 
faith in the medicinal efficacy of green ginger (2. 279), 
of a mouse's skin (3. 212), of 'smelling to the toes' 
(3. 216), and of carduus benedictus and mare's milk 
(3. 336) ; the delight of her spouse and herself in the 
puppet-shows and other rare sights (3. 295-308) ; the 
boastful spirit aroused by the exercises at the fencing- 
schools (2. 368—71) ; the absurdities of the old civic 

* Cf. 77ie Works of Beaumont 6* FUtcher, ed. Dyce, 2. 9. 

• Cf. Macaulay, Francis Beaumont^ p. 152. 

Objects of the Satire cxi 

display known as Arthur's Show (4. 65) ; the childish 
interest of the citizens in the May-game (4. 420-92.) 

these and other eccentricities of the common 

folk the dramatist archly glances at in passing, and, 
in a clever but kindly manner, he sets them out 
to denote the ignorance and the egotism of the self- 
constituted censors of the stage whom he desires to 
ridicule and reprove. The features of these minute 
media of the satire are sufficiently illustrated in the 
notes, and need not here be further specified. 

A word should be said, however, upon one of the 
lesser satirical episodes which Beaumont developes 
at some length, and with inimitable spirit. I refer 
to the playful burlesque upon the drills at Mile End 
Green in Act 4, 11. 65-185. The mimicry which is 
there introduced through the Wife's suggestion is in 
ridicule of the pompous manoeuvers of the City train 
bands, merged in later times in the Royal London 
MiUtia. Mile End, just outside the bounds of Old 
London, was established as the mustering place of 
this order by Henry VIII in 1532, when the organiza- 
tion was provisionally formed. Entick says : 

The king laid a scheme to find out the real strength of his metrop- 
olis, by ordering a general muster to be made of all the defensible 
men within the City or the liberties, from the age of i6, to 60, to 
be held at MiU-end^ on the fields between Whitechapel church and 
Stephney church ; and commanding that their names, and an account 
of the weapons, armour, and other military accoutrements belonging 
to the City, should then be also taken down and sent him'. 

There are records of two important musters under 
Elizabeth, one in 1559' at Greenwich, the other in 
1585, when about 4000 men were chosen out of the 
Companies of the City by command of the Queen. 
They mustered daily at Mile End and in St. George's 
Fields, and were inspected by the Queen at Green- 

* Survey of London i. 184. 

cxii Introduction 

wich. By a commission dated Aug. 21, 1605, King 
James authorized a general muster to be made of 
the forces of the City, and especially of such trained 
men as had been enrolled imder Elizabeth. Eventu- 
ally these bodies were organized into companies, 
under the name of train bands. They were officered by 
members of the Honorable Artillery Company, with 
which they are sometimes confounded. The Artillery 
Company dates its present existence from 1610, hence 
from the immediate period of our play. Its formation 
immensely stimulated the military interest of the 
Londoners, and induced the excessive fondness for 
drills which the play satirizes. The train bands were 
not brought into active requisition until the Civil 
War. Then, however, though their practical utility 
had been cheaply esteemed, they distinguished them- 
selves by their skill and their bravery*. 

It is the factitious dangers and illusory bravery 
involved in these battles at Mile End which so mightily 
stir the military ardor of our representative Citizen 
and his wife, and which so dilate the bosom of the 
redoubtable Ralph, as he marshals his invincible troops 
across the stage. Nothing could more cleverly denote 
the childish futility of these displays, and the citizens' 
inflated pride in their imagined magnificence and 
importance, than our grocer's seeming belief in his 
own hairbreadth escapes when he himself was a 
pikeman there 'in the hottest of the day,' or his 
terror before the sham fire, and his devout gratitude 
that ' for all this I am heere wench,' or Ralph's solemn 
inspection of the faulty munitions, or Greengoose's 
cgi^egious rashness in firing his gun, ' partly to scoure 

^ For accounts of the City train bands, cf. Francis Grose, The Anti- 
quartan Rtpertory I. 25 1— 270, and G. A. Raikes, The History of the 
Honourable Artillery Company. 

Objects of the Satire cxiii 

her, and partly for audacity,' or the captam's fear 
of the 'Butchers hookes at white-Chappel,' or his 
inspiring address to the soldiers, with his reassuring 
adjuration: 'Feare not the face of the enemy, nor 
the noise of the guns: for beleeue me brethren, the 
rude rumbling of a Brewers Carre is farre more 
terrible,' and his comforting promise to them: 'for 
you shall see (I do not doubt it) and that very 
shortly, your louing wives againe, and your sweet 
children, whose care doth beare you company in 

Here again the genius of a truly dramatic satirist 
is at work. The citizens are allowed to bring down 
ridicule upon themselves of their own initiative, and 
from impulses which are native, in varying degrees, 
to all mankind. The satire is implicit in its objects, 
and is made expressive by means of the unfolding 
of a typical, if designedly exaggerated, picture of 
absurd contemporary customs, through which, how- 
ever, are exposed the fundamental and eternally 
ludicrous vanities and weaknesses of human nature 
itself Here, as elsewhere in The Knight of the Bum- 
ing Pestle, Beaumont, though his medium is some- 
what obscure, because of its remoteness from our 
experience, is directing his ridicule at the ingrained 
absurdities of men, and, therefore, is here, as else- 
where, manifesting his powers, not merely as a social 
satirist, whose work must necessarily have a tempo- 
rary application only, but as a dramatist setting forth 
a vitally humorous, hence penetrating and perennially 
truthful interpretation of life. 

It is in this larger aspect that, in the last analysis. 
The Knight of the Burning Pestle should be remem- 
bered. It shadows forth popular fashions and manners 
and social oddities which have long since vanished ; 


cxiv Introduction 

it is in its occasion a burlesque upon some of the 
outworn vagaries of the race ; but, unlike many of 
its forgotten contemporaries on the public stage, its 
essence inheres not in its occasion or its immediate 
material, but in the elemental peculiarities of our 
common nature. It should excite, therefore, not mere- 
ly an antiquarian, but also a vital and sympathetic 

THE KSIvj^. 



The text adopted for the present edition is that of 
a copy of the First Quarto, dated 1613, which is 
preserved in the Boston Public Library. Except for 
pagination, line-numbering, and a few substitutions 
of modem for archaic characters, the text here given 
aims to be an exact reproduction of the Quarto. 

In the compilation of variants, the guiding principle 
has been to record only those alterations of the 
original text which materially clarify or strengthen 
the sense, or which supply alternate readings having 
a peculiar interest This has involved the noting of 
all suggestive changes of punctuation ; all changes 
in spelling of which the result is a difference of form 
or removal of ambiguities; and all stage-directions 
and scene-headings supplied by the editions of Weber 
and Dyce. Frequently, also, the egregious blunders 
and inconsistencies of punctuation in the First Quarto 
have led me to note subsequent corrections, even in 
passages of which the meaning is perfectly clear. I 
have limited myself, however, to the emendations of 
only the more obtrusive of such errors; to have noticed 
all of them would have involved a task manifestly 
disproportionate to the value of its results. 

I have not given separate treatment to the edition 
of 1811, since it is merely a reprint of that of 1778, 
nor to Darley's editions of 1840 and 1866, since they 
are reprints of the text of Weber. Keltic's text of 
the play in his Works of the British Dramatists, 1870, 
and Fitzgibbon's text in Famous Elizabethan Plays, 
1890, are based on the editions of Weber and Dyce, 


4 Editors Note 

and are therefore unnoticed. The text in Morlej^'s 
Burlesque Ploys and Poems, 1885, is based on the 
edition of 1750, and presents no variants not bor- 
rowed from the editions of 1778, Weber, or Dyce; 
consequently, it also has been disregarded. Strachey 's 
(Mermaid) edition and Moorman's (Temple Dramatists) 
edition, though they follow Dyce very closely, present 
a few unique variants of significance, which are duly 

Q, = The first quarto of 1635. 
Q, = The second quarto of 1635. 
F = FoUo of 1679. 
1711 = Edition of 1711. 
1750 = Edition of Theobald, Seward, and Sympson, 

1778 = Edition of 1778. 
W = Weber's edition, 1812. 
Dy = Dyce's edition, 1843. 
S = Strachey's (Mermaid) edition, 1887. 
M = Moorman's (Temple Dramatists) edition, 
om. = omitted, 
f. = and all later editions. 

At the end of the text may be found the title- 
page, the address to the readers, the prologue, and 
the speakers' names, which are prefixed to the Second 
Quarto, 1635. 



the Burning Pestle. 

Quod si 

Judicium subtik, videndis arHbus illud 

Ad libros 6* ad haec Musarum dona vocares: 

Boeoium in crasso iurares aire nahim, 

Horat in Epist. ad Oct Aug. 

(Printer's Device.) 


Printed for WALTER BURRE, 

and are to be sold at the signe of the Crane 

in Paules Church-yard. 



friend Maister Robert Kevsar. 




m agkt Jma (mt lakh I 

■ ^^ 




soome tfitr, \ 

MS ty Ms fl 



mat kee wags 

so vu- 

Ske kis hnthnmf expimd 





ikt frmy wmjIi eflioae. 
it (which shewed H was no cf-spnmg cf mmy vm^mr 
brmm) vUerfy raeded ii: so Aat for wmtd ef maep- 
tance ii was emem ready %o gme vp At Gkosi, amd weas m 
danger to home heme smoAered m p e rp et moB obBmkm, ^ 
you (out of yomr £recl aiiliyallijf %o mgraHlmdef had mai 
bene numed both to reSeme amd cherish ii: mhereim I ; 
needs commend both yomr uul^ememi, rwrf'i jinmd 
ing, and singular hue to good wOs; yon ef kiwmd s 
it to mee, yet being an itfani amd somewhat ragged, I 
haue fosired ii priuaiefy in my bosome these two yeares, 
and nam to shew my lome retmrme U to yon, clad in good 
lasting cloaths, which scarce memor y will weare out, and 
able to speake for it se^e; amd wOhall, as U tetkth mee, 
desirous to try his fortmm in the worU, where if yet U be 
welcome, father, foster father, nurse amd chUd, all 
haue their desired end If it bee slighted or tradmced, it 

This dedicatioii was fint reprmtcd bj W DEIHCATION OF THE 
FIRST EDITION, 1613. W MaiUcr] Master W, L paani after W. f, 
of'SpHng] ofs^rmg W, L yH^ W ragged: Djr 

8 The Epistle Dedicatory 

hopes his father wiU begei htm a yanger brother, who 
shall reuenge his quarrell, and challenge the world eith- 
er of fond and meerely UteraU interpretation, or illite- 
rate misprision. Perhaps it will be thought to bee of the 
race of Don Quixote : we both may confidently sweare, 
it is his elder aboue a yeare; and therefore may (by ver- 
tue of his birth-right) challenge the wall of him. I doubt 
not but they will meet in their aduentures, and I hope the 
breaking of one staff e will make them friends ; and per- 
haps they will combine themselues, and trauell through 
the world to seeke their aduentures. So I commit him to 
his good fortune, and my selfe to your hue. 

Your assured friend 


W. B. 

W. B] W. B(URRE). Dy 

The famous Historic 

Of the Knight of the burning 



FRom all that's neere the Court, from all 
that's great 
Within the compasse of the Citty-wals, 
We now haue brought our Sceane. 

Enter Citizen. 

at. Hold your peace good-man boy. 
/Vo. What do you meane sir? 

Gt. That you haue no good meaning : This seuen 
yeares there hath beene playes at this house, I haue 
obserued it, you haue still girds at Citizens ; and now , 
you call your play, The London Marehant. Downe with 
your Title boy, downe with your Title. 

Pro, Are you a member of the noble Citty? 

Cit. I am. 

Pro. And a Free-man? , 

Cit. Yea, and a Grocer. 

Pro, So Grocer, then by your sweet fauour, we 
intend no abuse to the Citty. 

The £uDOQs Historie Of the Kni^t of the burning PEsnx. ] The 
Knight of the Bnniing Pestle. F, t Induction. W, C Enter 

PxoLOGVE.] Emier tpeaktr tf the Prologue. 1778 W, f. Thi Cidun^ 

kis Wife^ amd Ralph, nUmg Ulcno Mr Siage among the Spectators. Several 
Gentlemen tittmg upon tke Stage, W, f. 5 Enter Otizen. ] Gtiten 

leaps upon the stage* W, 1 11 MarcluuU\ Merchant Qs, f. pasdm 

10 The Knight of the burning Pestle [ind. 

Cit. No sir, yes sir, if you were not resolu'd to 

•• play the lacks, what need you study for new subiects, 

purposeley to abuse your betters ? why could not you 

be contented, as well as others, with the legend of 

Whittington, or the life & death of sir Thomas Gresham ? 

[10] with the building of the Roy all Exchange ? or the 

•5 story of Queene Elenor, with the rearing of London 

bridge vpon wool-sackes? 

Prol. You seeme to bee an vnderstanding man: 
what would you haue vs do sir? 

at. Why present something notably in honour 
so of the Commons of the Citty. 

Pro. Why what doe you say to the life and death 
of fat Drake, or the repairing of Fleet-priuies ? 

at. I do not like that, but I will haue a Citizen, 
and hee shall be of my owne trade. 
35 Pro. Oh you should haue told vs your minde a 
moneth since, our play is ready to begin now. 

at. 'Tis all one for that, I will haue a Grocer, 
and he shall do admirable things. 
Pro. What will you haue him do? 

4o Cit. Marry I will haue him 

Wife. Husband, husband. w^ 

Safe. Peace mistresse. j^j 

Wife. Hold thy peace Bafe, I know what I do I^^ 
warrant tee. Husband, husband. 
45 at. What sayst thou cunny? 

Wife. Let him kill a Lyon with a pestle husband, 
let him kill a Lyon with a pestle. 

at. So he shall. Il'e have him kill a Lyon with a pestle. 

19 No, sir? 1778 W No, sir I Dy 22 The .... Whitting^n, 

Dy 2-^ The ... . Exchange f Dy Gresham, W, t 25 The 

.... woolsaaksf Dy 31 The .... FleeUpriuesf Dy 36 month 
F, f. passim 42 Rafe\ Ralph F, f. passim 44 tec ] ye Qi Qs F 

171 1 1750 Dy you 1778 thee W 45 cttiiny ] cony 171 1, f. passim 

48 ire] I'll F, f. passim 

Dn).] The Knight of the burning Pestle 1 1 

Wife. Husband, shall I come vp hosband? 

at. I cunny. Eafe helpe your mistresse this way : s» 
pray gentlemen make her a little roome, I pray you 
sir lend me your hand to helpe vp my wife : I thank 
you sir. So. 

Wife. By your leaue Gentlemen all, Im'e some- 
thing troublesome, Im*e a striger here, I was nere ss 
at one of these playes as they say, before; but I 
should haue seene Jane Share once, and my husband 
hath promised me any time this Twelaemoneth to 
carry me to the Bold Beauchams, but in tmth he did 
not, I pray you beare with me. ^ 

CU. Boy, let my wife and I haue a cupple stooles, 
and then begin, and let the Grocer do rare things. 

Prol But sir, we haue nener a boy to play him, 
euery one hath a part already. (11 J 

Wife, Husband, husband, for Gods sake let Rafe^ 
play him, beshrew mee if I do not thinke he will 
goe beyond them a]L 

Cit. Well remembred wife, come vp hafe : D'e tell 
you Gentlemen, let them but lend him a suit of 
reparrell, and necessaries, and by Gad. if any of them ^ 
all blow winde in the taile on him, D'e be hang'd 

Wife. I pray you youth let him haue a suit of 
reparrell, D'e be swome Gentlemen, my husband t«U 
you true, hee will act you sometimes at our hoa«^, 
that all the neighbours cry out on him : \it/t will n 
fetch you vp a couraging part so in the garret, that 
we are all as feard I warrant you« that wee qtiake 
againe: wee! feare our children with him if they J>ee 

50 I] ay 171 1, t paatm ia tbU •<»*»? 53 <y>, IVi/^ <^/f>ui uf^,n 

the stage. W, t 54 Im>] I'm F, t {aaBm 5 j irj^ujT 0> i f-^* ,f> *f 

171 1, f. pastm 61 coople of iioob C^ t ^2 'A.t^t . '.W.- ^^^ 
brought. W, 1 af§d they sit down. W. 71 Iaa^^A. ^ IfAiJ^i ///mx; 

9n the Stage, W, t 73 reporrd ! 177S W rryvf^:. l/j 7% f...v, 

1778. f. 

12 The Knight of the burning Pestle. [ind. 

neuer so vn-ruly, do but cry, Rafe comes^ Safe comes 
So to them, and theyl be as quyet as Lambes. Hold 
vp thy head Safe, shew the Gentlemen what thou 
canst doe, speake a huffing part, I warrant you the 
Gentlemen will accept of it. 
at Do Safe, do. 
85 Bafe. By heauen me thinkes it were an easie leap 
To plucke bright honour from the pale-fac'd Moone, 
Or diue into the bottome of the sea, 
Where neuer fathame line touch't any ground, 
And plucke vp drowned honor from the lake of hell. 
90 at. How say you Gentlemen, is it not as I told you? 
Wife. Nay Gentlemen, hee hath playd before, 
my husband sayes, Musidorus before the Wardens of 
our Company. 

at. I, and hee should haue playd leronimo with 
95 a Shooemaker for a wager. 

Pro. He shall haue a suite of apparrell if he will go in. 
at. In Bafe^ in Bafe^ and set out the Grocery in 
their kinde, if thou lou'st me. 

Wife. I warrant our Bafe will looke finely when 
«oohee's drest. 

Pro. But what will you haue it cal'd? 
Cit. The Grocers honour. 

Pro. Me thinks The Knight of the burning Pestle 
were better. 
»o5 Wif Il'e be sworn husband, thats as good a name 
[1^1 as can be. 

at. Let it be so, begin, begin, my wife and I wil 
sit downe. 
Pro. I pray you do. 
ISO Cit. What stately mucsike haue you? you have 

88 fathom F, f. 97 Grocery] Grocers 1 71 1 1750 107 so. Dy, f. 
no mucsike] music F, f. 

IND.] The Knighi of the burning Pestle 1 3 

Pro. Shawnes? no. 

at No? Im'e a thiefe if my minde did not giue 
me so. Safe playes a stateley part, and he most 
needs haue shawnes : Il'e be at the charge of them »$ 
my selfe, rather then wee! be without them. 

Pro. So you are like to be. 

Cit. Why and so I will be: thers two shillings 
let's haue the waits of South-warke, they are as rare 
fellowes as any are in England : and that will fetch <» 
them all or*e the water with a vengeance, as if they 
were mad. 

Pro. you shall haue them: will you sit downe 

Cit. I, come wife. "s 

Wife. Sit you merry all Gentlemen, Im'e bold to 
sit amongst you for my ease. 

Pro. From all thafs neere the Court, from all 
that's gpreat 
Within the compasse of the Citty-walles, «j» 

We now haue brought our Sceane: flye farre from 

All priuate taxes, ^immodest phrases, 
What ere may but shew like vicious: 
For wicked mirth neuer true pleasure brings, '3$ 

But honest minds are pleased with honest things. 
Thus much for that we do: but for Rafes part 
You must answere for your selfe. 

Cit. Take you no care for Bafe^ hee'l discharge 
himselfe I warrant you. m* 

Wife. I faith Gentlemen Il'e giue my word for Rafe. 

112 shawnes] shawmes F, f. passtm Il6 then] than F, f. passim 

in this sense Il8 shillings (giv€S money); Dy 121 or'e ] o'er 1711, f. 
passim 123 jrou] You Qt, f. 126 all, F, f. 127 eaae. ] Ciiiten 

and Wife sit down. Dy, f. 129 great Q|, f. 

14 The Knight of the burning Festle [act i 

Actus primi, Scoena prima. 

Enter Marchant^ and lasper his Prentice. 

March. Sirrah, IPe make you know you are my 
And whom my charitable loue redeem'd 
Euen from the fall of fortune, gaue thee heate 
[13] 5 And growth, to be what now thou art, new cast thee, 
Adding the trust of all I haue at home. 
In forren Staples, or vpon the Sea 
To thy direction, ti'de the good opinions 
Both of my selfe and friends to thy endeauours, 

xo So faire were thy beginnings, but with these. 
As I remember, you had neuer c harg e. 
To loue your Maisters daughter, and euen then, 
When I had found a wealthy husband for her. 
I take it, sir, you had not ; but how euer, 

15 rie breake the necke of that commission. 
And make you know you are but a Merchants Factor. 

lasp. Sir, I do liberally confesse I am yours, 
Bound, both by loue and duty, to your seruice; 
In which, my labour hath bene all my profit; 

9o I haue not lost in bargaine, nor delighted 
To weare your honest gaines vpon my backe, 
Nor haue I giuen a pencion to my bloud. 
Or lauishly in play consum'd your stocke. 
These, and the miseries that do attend them, 

«5 1 dare, with innocence, proclaime are strangers 
To all my temperate actions; for your daughter, 
If there be any loue, to my deseruings, 

Scoena prima , , , . A Room in the House of Vententels. W, f. Ven- 
TUREWELL Dy passim Enter Marchant.] Enter Venterwells, W, f. 

I March. ] Vent. W, f. passim 7 foreign 1 7 1 1 , f. 9 endeavors ; 
1778, f. 10 beginnings. Dy 22 blood 171 1, f. passim 27 loveQ^, f. 
deservings 1778, f. 

ACT I] The Knight of the bmning Pestle 15 

Borne by her vertuous selfe, I cannot stop it ? 

Nor, am I able to refraine her wishes. 

She's priuate to her selfe and best of knowledge, 90 

Whom she'le make so happy as to sigh for. 

Besides, I cannot thinke you meane to match her, 

Vnto a felow of so lame a presence. 

One that hath little left of Nature in him. 

Mar. 'Tis very well sir, I can tell yomr wisedome 25 
How all this shall bee cufd. lasp. Yomr care becomes 

March. And thus it must be sir, I heere discharge you 
My house and seruice, take your liberty. 
And when I want a sonne He send for you. Exit,- 

lasp. These be the faire rewards of them that loue. 

you that Hue in fteedome neuer proue 

The trauell of a mind led by desire. -£«^[14] 

Luce. Why, how now friend, struck with my fathers 
thunder ? 45 

lasp. Strucke and strucke dead vnlesse the remedy 
Be full of speede and vertue ; I am now, 
What I expected long, no more your fathers. 

Luce. But mine. lasp. But yours, and onely yours 
I am, so 

That's all I haue to keepe mee from the Statute, 
You dare be constant still. Luce. O feare me not. 
In this I dare be better then a woman. 
Nor shall his anger, nor his offers moue me, 
Were they both equall to a Princes power. ;$ 

lasp. You know my riuall? Luce. Yes and loue 
him deerly 
Euen as I loue an ague, or foule weather, 

1 prethee lasper feare him not lasp. O no, 

28 it: Q, F 1711 1750 it; 1778. ^ 3^ ««»«"* ^^\ »hall b^ r^ 

F 1711 1750 1778 Dy 49 miDC? 1778 W 50 am, 1778, /. 

51 ftatute; 1711 1750 statute. 1778, 1 52 itill ? Q,, f. 

1 6 The Knight of the burning Pestle [act i 

60 1 do not meane to do him so much kindnesse, 
But to our owne desires, you know the plot 
We both agreed on. Luce. Yes, and will performe 
My part exactly, lasp. I desire no more, 
Fare- well and keepe my heart, 'tis yours. Luce. I take it, 

65 He must do miracles makes me forsake it. Exn 

CiUiz. Fye vpon am little infidels, what a matters 

here now? well, Fie be hang'd for a halfe-penny, if 

there be not some abomination knauery in this Play, 

well, let 'em looke toot, Bafe must come, and if there 

70 be any tricks abrewing, 

Wife. Let 'em brew and bake too husband, a 
Gods name, Bafe will find all out I warrant you, and 
they were older then they are, I pray my pretty 
youth is Bafe ready. 

75 Boy. He will be presently. 

Wife. Now I pray you make my commendations 
vnto him, and withall carry him this sticke of Licoras, 
tell him his Mistresse sent it him, and bid him bite 
a peece, 'twill open his pipes the better, say. 

80 Enter Marchantj and Maister Humfery. 

Mar. Come sir, shee's yours, vpon my faith she's yours 
You haue my hand, for other idle lets 
Betweene your hopes and her, thus, with a wind 
They are scattered and no more : my wanton Prentice, 
[15] 85 That like a bladder, blew himselfe with loue, 
I haue let out, and sent him to discouer 
New Maisters yet vnknowne. Humf I thanke you sir, 
Indeed I thanke you sir, and ere I stir 

60 kindnesse. 1778, f. 62 on? 1778, f. 64 it; 1778, f. 

65 Exeunt severally. Dy 66 am ] 'cm Q„ f. 69 toot ] to*t Q,, f. 

72 and] an 1778, f. passim in this sense 73 are. Qt, f. {Enter 
Boy.) S 74 ready? Q„ f. 77 licorice 1778, f. 80 Scene II. — Another 
room in the house of Venturewell Enter Venturewell and Humphrey 
Dy 81 faith she's yours, Q„ f. 82 hand: 1778, f. 

ACT i] The Knighi of the burning Pestle 17 

It shall bee knowne, how euer you do deeme, 

I am of gentle bloud and gentle seeme. 9» 

March. O sir, I know it certaine. Humf. Sir my friend. 
Although, as Writers say, all things haue end 
And that we call a pudding, hath his two | 

let it not seeme strange I pray to you, ) 
If in this bloudy simile, I put ts 
My loue, more endlesse, then fraile things or gut 

Wife. Husband, I prethee sweete lambe tell me 
one thing, 
But tell mee truely : stay youths I beseech yoo, till 

1 question my husband* Citiz, What is it mouse ? »«> 

Wife. Sirrah, didst thou euer see a prettier child ? 
how it behaues it selfe, I warrant yee, and speakes, 
and lookes, and pearts vp the head? I pray you 
brother, with your fauor, were you neuer none of IL 
Monkesters schollars. ms 

Cit Chicken, I prethee heartely containe thy selfe, 
the childer are pretty childer, but when Bafe comes, 

Wife. I when Rafe comes conny ; well my youth, 
you may proceed tu» 

Mar. Wei sir, you know my loue, and rest, I hope, 
Assured of my consent, get but my daughters. 
And wed her when you please ; you must be bold. 
And clap in close vnto her, come, I know 
You haue language good enough to win a wench. 

Wife. A whoreson tyrant has ben an old stringer 
in's daies I warrant him. Humf. I take your gentle 
offer and withall 
Yeeld loue againe for loue reciprocalL /^ 

Mar. What Luce within there. Lu. Cal'd you sir ? «»» 
March. I did« 

93 two, F, 1 116 tyrmnt ! 177S, 1 h*ac Dj been Q,,! ilO Lwj: ! 
1778, t there? F 171 1 1750 there 1 177S, 1 


i8 The Knight of the burning Pestle [act i 

Giue entertainement to this Gentleman 
And see you bee not froward: to her sir, 
My presence will but bee an eye-soare to you. Exit. 

»5 Humf. Faire Mistresse Luce^ how do you do, are 

you well? 
Giue me your hand and then I pray you tell, 
How doth your little sister, and your brother? 
[16] And whether you loue me or any other. 
»3o Luce. Sir, these are quickely answered Hum/. So 

they are 
Where women are not cruel : but how farre 
Is it now distant from this place we are in, 
Vnto that blessed place your fathers warren. 
«35 Luce. What makes you think of that sir? 
Hum/. Euen that face 
For stealing Rabbets whilome in that place, 
God Cupid^ or the Keeper, I know not whether 
Vnto my cost and charges brought you thither, 
uo And there began. Luce. Your game sir. Hum/. Let 

no game, 
Or anything that tendeth to the same. 
Bee euermore remembred, thou faire killer 
For whom I sate me downe and brake my Tiller. 
MS Wife. There's a kind Gentleman, 1 warrant you, 
when will you do as much for me George? 

Luce. Beshrew me sir, I am sorry for your losses, \ 
But as the prouerbe saies, I cannot cry, ' 

I would you had no scene me. Hum/. So would L 
»5o Vnlesse you had more maw to do me good. 

Luce. Why, cannot this strange passion be withstood, 
Send for a Constable and raise the Towne. 

125 you do, arc] you, are F, f. 134 warren? W, f. 136 face 

Q„ f. 138 whether, Q„ f. 140 began . . . 1778, f. Sir? 1778 W 
142 same, Q, f. 148 cry; 1711 1750 1778 cry: Dy 149 would 

I, 171 1, f. 151 strange] strong 1750 withstood? 171 1, f. 

ACT i] The Knight of the burning Pestle 19 

Humf. O no, my valiant loue will batter downe 
Millions of Constables, and put to flight, 
Euen that great watch of Mid-summer day at night, ns 

Luce. Beshrew me sir, 'twere good I yeelded then, 
Weake women cannot hope, where valiant men 
Haue no resistance. Humf. Yeeld then, I am fiill 
Of pitty, though I say it, and can pull 
Out of my pocket, thus, a paire of gloues, ^^ 

Looke Lucy^ looke, the dogs tooth, nor the Doues '^ 
Are not so white as these ; and sweete they bee, 
And whipt about with silke, as you may see. 
If you desire the price, sute from your eie, 
A became to this place, and yon shall espie «^ 

F. S. which is to say, my sweetest hony. 
They cost me three and two pence, or no money. 

Luce. Well sir, I take them kindly, and I thanke you, [17] 
What would you more? Hum/. Nothing. Lu^. Why 

then fare-well. «7* 

Humf. Nor so, nor so, for Lady I must tell, 
Before we part, for what we met together, 
God grant me time, and patience, and faire weather. 

Luce. Speake and declare your minde in termes 

so briefe. *n 

HuxF. I shall, then first and formost for reliefe 
I call to you, I if that you can affbord it, 
I care not at what price, for on my word, it 
Shall be repaid againe, although it cost me 
More then Fie speake of now, for loue hath tost me, '*• 
In furious blanket like a Tennis ball, 
And now I rise aloft, and now I fall. 

Luce. Alas good Gentleman, alas the day. 

Humf I thanke you hartely, and as I say, 
Thus do I still continue without rest, >h 

164 ihool 171 1, t 172 together ; 1778 W U>gfther '. Ifj 177 I 

if] if Q„ f. 184 heartily Q,, f. 


20 The Knight of the burning Pestle [act i 

Fth' morning like a man, at night a beast, 
Roaring and bellowing myne owne disquiet, 
That much I feare, forsaking of my diet, 
Will bring me presently to that quandary, 

»9oI shall bid all adeiw: Luce. Now by S. Mary 

That were gfreat pitty. Hum, So it were beshrew me, 
Then ease me lusty Luce^ and pitty shew me. 

Luce. Why sir, you know my will is nothing worth 
Without my fathers grant, get his consent, 

>95 And then you may with assurance try me. 

Humf. The WorshipfuU your sire will not deny me. 
For I haue askt him, and he hath repli'd, 
Sweete Maister Humfrey, Luce shall be thy Bride. 
Luce. Sweete Maister Humfrey then I am content. 

«» Humf. And so am I intruth. Luce. Yet take me 

with you. 
There is another clause must be annext. 
And this it is, I swore and will performe it; 
No man shall euer ioy me as his wife 

••5 But he that stole me hence, if you dare venter 
1 am yours ; you need not feare, my father loues you. 
If not farewell for euer. Humf. Stay Nimph, staie, 
[18] I haue a double Gelding coulored bay, 
Sprung by his father from Barbarian kind, 

«to Another for my selfe, though somewhat blind, 
^ Yet true as trusty tree. Luce. 1 am satisfied. 
And so I giue my hand, our course must lie 
Trough Waltham Forrest, where I haue a friend 
Will entertaine vs, so fare-well sir Humfrey. f^ 

ai5 And thinke vpon your businesse. Humf Though I die, 
I am resolu'd to venter life and lim, 
For one so yong, so faire, so kind, so trim. Hum 

195 with assurance] with full assurance 1750 1778 W 201 you ; 

1778, f. 203 is: 1778, f. it, 1778, f. 205 hence. Dy venter, Q, 
Qi venture, F, f. 206 loues you; Dy 216 limb, 171 1, t 

ACT i] The Knight of the burning Pestle 21 

Wife. By my faith and troth George^ and as I am 
\vertuous, it is e'ne the kindest yong man that euer 
! trod on shooe leather, well, go thy waies if thou hast »o 
her not, 'tis not thy fault *faith. 

Ca. I prethee mouse be patient, a shall haue her. 
or i'le make some 'em smoake for t. 

Wife. That's my good lambe George^ fie, this 
stinking Tobacco kils men, would there were none »s 
in England, now I pray Gentlemen, what good does 
this stinking Tobacco? do you nothing, I warrant 
you make chimnies a your faces : o husband, husband, 
now, now, there's Rafe^ there's Rafe. 

Enter Rafe like a Grocer in's shop^ with two Prentices*^ 
Reading Palmerin of England. 

Cit. Peace foole, let Rafe alone, harke you Rafe; 
doe notstraine your selfe too much at the first peace, 
begin Rafe. 

Rafe. Then Palmerin and Trineus snatching their ns 
Launces from their Dwarfes, and clasping their Hel- 
mets gallopt amaine after the Gyant, and Palmerin 
hauing gotten a sight of him, came posting amaine, 
saying : Stay trajrterous thiefe, for thou maist not s^i 
carry away her, that is worth the greatest Lord in S4# 
the world, and with these words gaue him a blow 
on the shoulder, that he stroake him besides his Ele- 
phant, and Trineus comming to the Knight that had 

219 c'nc] c*n 1711, f. paadm 220 Well, 1778, t wayi ; 1778. f. 

221 'faith] i'faith 1778, t 223 'cm] of *cfn Q,, f. 224 f^^jrn^,. 

1778, f. 225 men] me. 1750 Dy EngUnd I 1778, f. 227 U/^/a/y» 
do you ? 1750, t 228 yon; make 1778 W yoy ; make l/y a o' Ijj 
passim in this sense Cues ! ] SCESIE IL W SaL*c£ ||| l^ 4 Or^.tr'i 
Shop. W, f. 230 EnUr Ralph, as a grocer^ readmt^ Palnurin 0/ 

England^ with Tbc and Geokge. Dy 235 Ralph ^IOa4».y V/, /. 

235-49 "Then ... me." 1778, f. 236 laaces Qj, /, y^Uu 

239-41 *SUy . . . worid ;• 1778, f. 242 struck F, f. 

22 The Knighi of the burning Pestle [act i 

Agricola behind him, set him soone besides his horse, 
MS with his necke broken in the fall, so that the Prin- 

cesse getting out of the thronge, betweene ioy and 

griefe said ; all happy Knight, the mirror of all such 
[19] as follow Armes, now may I bee well assured of the 

loue thou bearest me, I wonder why the Kings doe 
•s^not raise army of foureteene or fifteene himdred 

thousand men, as big as the Army that the Prince 

of Portigo brought against Bosicler^ & destroy these 

Giants, they do much hurt to wandring Damsels, that 

go in quest of their Knights. 
«55 Wife. Faith husband and Bafe saies true, for they 

say the King of Portugall cannot sit at his meate, 

but the Giants & the Ettins will come and snatch it 

from him, 

Cit Hold thy tongue, on Bafe. 
•«• Bafe. And certainely those Knights are much to 

be commended, Vho neglecting their possessions, 

wander with a Squire and a Dwarfe through the 

Desarts to relieue poore Ladies. 

Wife. 1 by faith are they Bafe^ let 'em say what 
«65 they will, they are indeed, our Knights neglect their 

possessions well enough, but they do not the rest. 
Bafe. There are no such courteous and faire well 

spoken Knights in this age, they will call one the 

Sonne of a whore, that Palmerin of England, would 
a7o haue called faire sir ; and one that Bosider would 

haue cal'd right beauteous Damsell, they will call 

dam*d bitch. 

Wife, rie be swome will they Bafe^ they haue 

card mee so an hundred times about a scuruy pipe 
975 of Tobacco. 

247—49 *A11 . . . me.' 1778, f. 249 me. 1750. f. 258 him. 

Q,, t 259 tongue. 1778, f. 264 by faith] bjr my faith Q,, f. 

265 indeed. 1778, f. 

ACT i] The Knighi of the burning PesUe 23 

Rafe. But what braue spirit could be content to 
sit in his shop with a flappet of wood and a blew 
apron before him selling Methridahtm and Dragom 
water to visited houses, that might pursue feats of 
Armes, & through his noble atchieuments procure >>• 
such a famous history to be written of his heroicke 

CU. Well said Rafe^ some more of those words Rafe. 

Wife. The}' go finely by my troth. 

Rafe. Why should not I then pursue this course, ««$ 
both for the credit of my selfe and our Company, 
for amongst all the worthy bookes of Atchieuements 
I doe not call to minde that I yet read of a Grocer 
Errant, I will be the said Knight, haue yon heard of 
any that hath wandred vnfumished of his Squire and *9« 
Dwarfe, my elder Prentice Tim shall be my trusty [20] 
Squire, and Uttle George my Dwarfe, Hence my blew 
Apome, yet in remembrance of my former Trade, 
vpon my shiled shall be purtraide, a burning Pestle, 
and I will be cal*d the KnigJU oth burning PesUe. ns 

Wife. Nay, I dare sweare thou wilt not forget thy 
old Trade, thou wert euer meeke. Rafe. Tim. 

Tim. Anon. 

Rafe. My beloued Squire^ & George my Dwarfe, I 
charge you that from hence-forth you neuer call me y 
by any other name, but the Right CourUaue and Valiant 
Knight of the burning Pestle, and that you neuer call 
any female by the name of a woman or wench, but 
faire Ladie, if she haue her desires, if not distressed 
Damsell, that you call all Forrests & Heaths Desarts, ns 
and all horses Palfries. 

282 prowen? 1778, f. 286 companj? 1778, f. 289 Knight. 

1778, f. 291 dwarf? Qs, f. 292 dwmrf. 1778, f. 294 ihilcd ] 

ihield Q,, f. portrayed Dy 295 oth ] of the Q,, f. 297 Ra/pA. 

Tim ! 1778, f. 304 not, F, f 305 damsel ; Q,, f. dcucrts Dy 

24 The Knight of the burning Pestle [act i 

Wife. This is very fine, faith, do the Gentlemen 
like Bafe^ thinke you, husband ? 

Cittiz. I, I warrant thee, the Plaiers would giue all 
3«o the shooes in their shop for him. 

Bafe. My beloued Squire Ttm, stand out, admit 
this were a Desart, and ouer it a Knight errant 
pricking, and I should bid you inquire of his intents, 
what would you say? 
3»5 Tim. Sir, my Maister sent me, to know whether 
you are riding? 

Bafe. No, thus ; faire sir, the Bight Courteous and 
Valiant Knight of the burning Pestle, commanded me 
to enquire, vpon what aduenture your are bound, 
3ao whether to reUeue some distressed Damsels, or other- 
at. Whoresome blocke-head cannot remember. 
Wife. Ffaith, & Bafe told him on't before, all 
the Gentlemen heard him, did he not Gentlemen, did 
3«5 not Bafe tel him on't ? 

George. Bight Courteous and Valiant Knight of the 
burning Pestle, here is a distressed Damsell, to haue 
a halfe penny-worth of pepper. 

Wife. That's a good boy, see, the little boy can 
330 hit it, by my troth it's a fine child. 

Bafe. Relieue her with all courteous language, now 
shut vp shoppe, no more my Prentice, but my trusty 
[21] Squire and Dwarfe, I must bespeake my shield and 
335 Cit. Go thy waies Bafe, as Im'e a true man, thou 
art the best on 'em all. 
Wife. Bafe, Bafe. 

309 thee; 1778, f. 315 whether] whither F, f. 320 Damsel, F 

171 1 1750 Dy 322 whoreson Q,, f. 331 language. 1778, f. 

332 Prentice(s) Dy 333 dwarf. 1778, f. 334 pestle. {Exeunt TUi 

and George Dy 

ACT l] Tfie Knighi of the burning Pesile. 25 

Rafe. What say you mistresse? 

Wife. I pre'thee come againe quickly sweet Rafe. 

Rafe. By and by. 34* ^^ 

Enter Jasper, and his mother mistresse }lerri-4haught. 

Mist, merri. Giue thee my blessing? No, D'e ner'e 
giue thee my blessing, D'e see thee hang'd first ; it 
shall ner e bee said I gaue thee my blessing* th'art 
thy fathers owne sonne, of the right bloud of the ms 
Jderri'thoughts, I may curse the time that er'e I knew 
thy father, he hath spent all his owne, and mine too, 
and when I tell him of it, he laughs and dances, and 
sings, and cryes, A merry heart Hues long-a. And thou 
art a wast-thrift, and art run away from thy maister, 35* 
that lov'd thee well, and art come to me, and I haue 
laid vp a little for my yonger sonne Michael^ and 
thou think'st to bezell that, but thou shalt neuer be 
able to do it. Come hither Michael, come Michael^ 
downe on thy knees, thou shalt haue my blessing, ^f^^ 

Mich. I pray you mother pray to God to blesse me. 

Mist, merri. God blesse thee : but lasper shall neuer 
haue my blessing, he shall be hang d first, shall hee 
not Michael? how saist thou? 

Mich. Yes forsooth mother and grace of God. 3<o 

Mist, merri. That's a good boy. 

Wife. I faith it's a fine spoken child. 

lasp. Mother though you forget a parents loue, 
I must preserue the duty of a child. 
I ran not from my maister, nor retume ^s 

To haue your stocke maintaine my Idlenesse. 

Wife. Vngracious childe I warrant him, harke how 

340 Exit, [ Scene ffl W Scene IV Dy ^ Room in Merrythought's 
House, W, f. 345 right om. Q, F 1711 1750 1778 350 wailcthrift, 
1778, f. 354 it [EnUr Michael W,f. 356 Mich, (KneeU.) W, f. 

26 The Knight of the burning Pestle [act i 

hee chops logicke with his mother : thou hadst best 

tell her she lyes, do tell her she lyes. 
370 at. If hee were my sonne, I would hang him vp 
[22] by the heeles, and flea him, and salt him, whoore- 

sonne halter-sacke. 
lasp. My comming onely is to begge your loue. 

Which I must euer, though I neuer gaine it, 

And howsoeuer you esteeme of me, 
375 There is no drop of bloud hid in these veines, 

But I remember well belongs to you 

That brought me forth, and would be glad for you 

To rip them all againe, and let it out. 

Mist, merri. I faith I had sorrow enough for thee 
380 (God knowes) but Il'e hamper thee well enough : get 

thee in thou vagabond, get thee in, and leame of thy 

brother Michael 

Old merri. unthin. Nose, nose, ioUy red nose, and 

who gaue thee this ioUy red nose? 
3»5 Mist, merri. Harke, my husband hee's singing and 

hoiting, and Im'e faine to carke and care, and all 

little enough. Husband, Charles, Charles MerUhaught. 

Enter old MerUhought 
Old merri. Nutmegs and Ginger, Cinnamon and 
390 Cloues, And they gaue me this ioUy red Nose. 

Mist, merri. If you would consider your state, you 
would haue little list to sing, I-wisse. 

Old merri. It should neuer bee considered while it 

were an estate, if I thought it would spoyle my singing. 

395 Mist, merri. But how wilt thou do Charles, thou art 

an old man, and thou canst not worke, and thou hast 

371 flay, Dy 373 only F, f. passim 382 Exeunt Jasper and 

Michael. Dy 384 Mer. (Singing within.) W. f. In stanzaic form : 

Nose .... And .... nose? 1778, f. 389 Mer. (Singing.) W, f. 

391 sUte] esUte Q, F 171 1 1750 1778 392 list] lust W 

ACT i] The Kmighi ofifu bmrma^ Pcsde 27 

not fortie shillings left, and tfaon eatest good meat, 
and drinkest good diinke. and langfaest? 

Old merri. And will do. 

MM. merri. Bat how wih thou come by it Churls ? mm 

Old merru How? why how hane I done hitherto 
this forty yeares? I nener came into my dining roome. 
but at eleuen & six a clocke. I foond excellent meat 
and dmike ath table, "ISy clothes were neoer wome 
out, but next morning a Taylor brought me a new ^ 
suit; and without question it will be so ener: vse ^ 
makes perfectnesse. If all shoold feile. it is but a 
little straining my selfe extraordinary. Sl laugh my [23] 
selfe to death. 

Wife. It*s a foolish old man this : is not he Gt^ye? 410 

CU. Yes Cunny. 

Wife. Giue me a peny i'th parse while I fine Gef/ryt. 

CU. I by Ladie cannie, hold thee there. 

Mist, fnerri. Well Charles, yon promis'd to prooide 
for lasper, and I hane laid vp for Michael, I pray too 4ss 
pay lasper his portion, hee*s come home, and hee 
shall not consume Michaels stocke : he saies his mainer 
tumd him away, bat I promise you truly. I thinks he 
ran away. 

Wife. No indeed mistresse Merriihaught. though he «»» 
bee a notable gallowes, yet D'e assure you his maister 
did tume him away, enen in this place 'twas Ifiaith 
within this halfe houre, about his daughter, my huj^ 
band was by. 

CU. Hang him rougue, he seru'd him well enough : 4»i 
loue his maisters daughter! by my troth Cunnie if 
there were a thousand boies, thou wouldst spoile them 
all with taking their parts, let his mother alone with him. 

Wife. I George, but yet truth is truth. 

402 this] tbae F, t 404 a'th] o*th 171 1. f. 413 i/fr \aAj 

1750 1778 W 422 pbce; 1778, £ 

28 The Knight of the burning Pestle [act i 

430 Old merri. Where is lasper, hee's welcome how 
euer, call him in, hee shall haue his portion, is he 

Enter lasper and Michael. 
Mist, merri. I foule chiue him, he is too merrie. 
435 lasper, Michael. 

Old merri. Welcome lasper, though thou runst 
away, welcome, God blesse thee: 'tis thy mothers 
minde thou should'st receiue thy portion; thou hast 
beene abroad, and I hope hast leam'd experience 
440 enough to goueme it, thou art of sufficient yeares, 
hold thy hand : one, two, three, foure, fiue, sixe, seuen, 
eight, nine, there's ten shillings for thee, thrust thy 
selfe into the world with that, and take some setled 
course, if fortune crosse thee, thou hast a retiring 
445 place, come home to me, I haue twentie shillings left, 
bee a good husband, that is, weare ordinary clothes, 
eate the best meate, and drinke the best drinke, bee 
merrie, and giue to the poore, and beleeue me, thou 
hast no end of thy goods. 
[24] 450 lasp. Long may you liue free from all thought of 
ill, and long haue cause to be thus merry still. But 

Old merri. No more words lasper, get thee gone, 
thou hast my blessing, thy fathers spirit vpon thee. 
455 Farewell lasper, but yet or ere you part (oh cruell') 
kisse me, kisse me sweeting, mine owne deere iewell ; 
So now begone; no words. f^^ 

Mis. mer. So Michael, now get thee gone too. 
Mich. Yes forsooth mother, but Il'e haue my fathers 
460 blessing first. 

430 Jasper? Q,, f. 435 Jasper I Michael 1 1778, f. Enter Jasper 

and Michael 1778, f. 442 thee. (Gives money) Dy 444 course: 

1778, f. 445 left. 1778, f. 452 father . . . 1778, f. 455 Jasper I 
(Sings) Dy 455^56 In stanzaic form : But . . . Kiss . . . Jewell. 1778, C 

ACT il Tltf Kjb^ c-' Jtaf xomnr Jkair 

ing, Aoa has« ilt *i>ffCTn£:. MsmK: X* i2n± tttt 
money & iew^eSs. aaf fdSsim ^ist X * san- in iim»^ 
with him I mmimiH rSxst^ xtut <3Mr-*» lie: Vfi^zmt -n#L 
OW flMTi- Wbai jot iril nm 

OM wkerri. H«y biw iari^iPiil J^oil X^ tokt Tns: 
wench more agazse. J c I a g. 

JfijL mtrrL Y«: ^aX hoc ^me ^wtdol aL ytnr 
owne is gone Vj !^>eaii ^sac I jsnant Uisisxt «=3gjxr*r, 
\T) for JfidkMl 

OM BKryi. Fair«il 5>^2 "^ife^ 2 *i3fKr r irac al 
I haue to doc in tis worid. » ti i^et 1112=7 '•™^ 
I shalL if the gimad be 2KC lafcsx iron: hk sodec r 
it be. 

When earth sad seas frcac skt aie 3»±. 
The skrcs aloft for me are iriL 

Tf'^t/if. D'e be svome bcse's a mesij :uf Gtaifiacax 
for all that. Harke. harke hnsbanl. hance. ik^d^et. ^ 
fiddles : now sorely they go finely. Tbey say. tk pr»»tnr 
death for these fidlexs to tnne tbcar Eet^tds&k zt^i'je^t 
the great Tnrkes grace, is't not Gtwrftf Bic 'rySmt, 
looke, here's a youth dances : now gocid ycnti ii a 
tmne a'th toe. sweet heart, r£utfa De baiK k^^^ vusut ^ 
and do some of his Gambols: heel vAt zut wxgi 
mare Gentlemen, 'twotikl do your heara ^»t v, v^ 
him. I thanke yon Idnde youth, pray \jxt t^t wiut 

461 now] BO Q^ 1 463 fkee. Xos Wirytf', Z^ ^ Wi^ 
1778, f. not? Qt C 467-^ !■ itaHw farm: H-^-m Vl 

can. 1778, t 477 £snatf anermOf, Dr ^^t /W .4dac ^^-n* 

onLDy 4tetk>L(lfMic)D7 iddkM,Mdk»V^A^a>W <{< Vw^ . 
^A)jy damceOQ W (Eater a bof aad dncei.: Iff 1 <t»^ * It v fc 

30 The Knight of the burning Pestle [act n 

[26] Cit. Peace Cunnie. Sirrah, you scuruie boy, bid 

49© the plaiers send RafCy or by Gk)ds and they 

do not, ire teare some of their periwigs beside their 
heads : this is all Riffe Raffe. 

Actus secundi Scoena prima. 

Enter Merchant and Humphrey. 

March. And how faith? how goes it now son 

Humph. Right worshipfull, and my beloued friend 
And 'father deere, this matters at an end. 
5 March. 'Tis well, it should be so, Im'e glad the 
girle is found so tractable. Humph. Nay she must whirle 
From hence, and you must winke : for so I say, 
The storie tels, to morrow before day. 

Wife. George, do'st thou thinke in thy conscience 

«onow 'twil be a match? tell me but what thou thinkst 

sweet rogue, thou seest the poore Gentleman (deere 

heart) how it labours and throbs I warrant you, to 

be at rest: Il'e goe moue the father fort. 

at. No, no, I pre'thee sit still hony-suckle, thoul't 
15 spoile all, if he deny him, Il'e bring halfe a doze 
good fellows my selfe, & in the shutting of an euen- 
ing knock't vp, & ther s an end. 

Wife. IFe busse thee for that i'faith boy ; well 
George^ well you haue beene a wag in your daies I 
ao warrant you: but God forgiue, you, and I do with 
all my heart. 
March. How was it sonne? you told me that to 
Before day breake, you must conuey her hence. 

490 by God*s wounds 1778 W and] an 1778, f. ACT n. Scene I. 
A Room in the House of Venterweh, W, f. 7—8 (and . . . tells) 1750 f. 
13 for't Q,, f. 15 dozen Q„ f. 

▲crn] TheKm^M/tkeimrmx^Pftsde 31 

HumplL I most. I most, and tfaos it b agreed. *: 
Your daughter rides vpon a biomu e- b ay ^eed. 
I on a sorrelL which I bought of Brimm. 
The honest Host of die red roaring Lion 
In Waltham situate : then if joa may 
Consent in seemely sort. lest by delay. j^ 

The fiataU sisters come and do die office. 
And then yonl sing anodier song. Jforct. Alasse 
Why should yon be thus full of griefe to me ? 
That do as willing as your selfe agree 
To any thing so it be good and £ure. s [26j 

Then steale her when you wilL, if such a pleasure 
Content you both. Fie sleepe and neuer see it. 
To make your ioyes more fiilL but tell me why 
You may not here performe your marriage? 

Wife. Gods blessing a thy soule old man. Tfaith 40 
thou art loath to part true hearts. I see, a has her 
Gearg, & Fme as glad on't, welL go thy waies J7mm- 
phrey, for a feure spoken man, I beleeue thou hast 
not thy fellow within the wals of Lamdon, & I should 
say the Suburbes too, I should not lie, why dost not 45 
reioyce with me George? 

Cit. If I could but see Baph againe, I were as 
merry as mine Host iTaith. 

Hum, The cause you seeme to aske, I thus declare, 
Helpe me o Muses nine, your daughter sweare so 

A foolish oath, the more it was the pitty. 
Yet none but my selfe within this Citty, 
Shall dare to say so, but a bold defiance 
Shall meete him, were he of the noble Science. 
And yet she sweare, and yet why did she sweare? 55 
Truely I cannot tell, vnlesse it were 

29 may, Q,, f. 33 me, F, f. 35 fair? F, C 38 fall : Q, Q, 
F 171 1 1750 fall. 1778, f. 40 a thy] o'thy F, f. 41 hearts: Q, 

Q,F 1711 1750 hearts. 1778, £ 42 on'tl 1778, f. 45 not reioyce] 
not thou rejoice Q, F 171 1 1750 1778 52 none] no one 1750, f. 

32 The Knight of the burning Pestle [act n 

For her owne ease, for sure sometimes an oath, 
Being swome thereafter is like cordiall broth. 
And thus it was shee swore, neuer to marry, 
^ 60 But such a one, whose mighty arme could carry 
(As meaning me, for I am such a one) 
Her bodily away through sticke and stone. 
Till both of vs arriue, at her request. 
Some ten miles off, in the wilde Waltham Forrest. 
«5 March. If this be all, you shall not need to feare 
Any deniall in your loue, proceed, 
rie neither follow, nor repent the deed. 

IHum. Good-night, twenty good-nights, & twenty 
70 And 20 more good-nights, that makes three-score. Eju 

Enter mistresse Mery-thaught, and her son Michctel. 

Mist. mer. Come Michael, art thou not weary boy ? 

Mich. No for-sooth mother not I. 

Mist. mer. Where be we now child? 
[27] 75 Mich. Indeed for-sooth mother I cannot tell, vnlesse 
we be at Mile-end, is not all the world Mile-end, 
Mother ? 

Mist. mer. No Michael, not al the world boy, but 
I can assure thee Michael, Mile-end is a goodly matter, 
80 there has bene a pitch-field my child betweene the 
naughty Spaniels and the English-men^ and the Spaniels 
ran away Michael^ and the English-men followed, my 
neighboiu* Coxstane was there boy, and kil'd them all 
with a birding peece. Mich. Mother forsooth. 
«5 Jlfi^^. mer. What saies my white boy ? 

Mich. Shall not my father go with vs too? 

Mist. mer. No Michael, let thy father go snicke-vp, 
he shall neuer come between a paire of sheets with 

58 thereafter, Q,, f. 59 thus ] this Q,, f. 70 Exeunt severaify 
Djr 71 Scene II W, f. Night. W WaUham Forest. Enter &c W, t 

ACT n] The Knighi of the burning Pestle 33 

me againe, while he liues, let him stay at home & 
sing for his supper boy, come child sit downe. andt* 
rie shew my boy fine knacks indeed, look here 
Michael, here's a Ring, and here's a Bruch, & here's 
a Bracelet, and here's two Rings more* and here's 
mony and gold bi'th eie my boy. Mick. Shall I haue 
all this mother? 95 

Mist. Mer. I Michael thou shalt haue all Michael. 

Cit. How lik'st thou this wench? 

Wife. 1 cannot tell, I would haue Bapk, George; 
rie see no more else indeed-law* 8l I pray you let 
the youths vnderstand so much by word of mouth, •«> 
for I tell you truely, Fme afraid a my boy, come, 
come George, lets be merry and wise, the child's a *" 
father-lesse child, and say they should put him into 
a streight paire of Gaskins, 'twere worse then knot- 
grasse, he would neuer grow after it. ' ^^^^^ ^ 

TUt. Here's Raph, here's Raph. s^re. 

Wife. How do you Raph ? you are welcome Raph, ^^ 
as I may say, it's a good boy, hold vp thy head, and 
be not afraid, we are thy friends Raph, the Gentlemen 
will praise thee Raph, if thou plaist thy i>art with no 
audacity, begin Raph a Gods name. 

Raph. My trusty Squire vnlace my Helme, giue 
mee my hat, where are we, or what Desart may this be ? 

Dwarf e. Mirrour of Knight-hood, this is, as I take 
it, the perrilous Waltham downe. In whose bottr^me « j 
stands the inchanted Valley. 

Mist. mer. O Michael, we are betrai'd, we are l>e- 
traid here be Gyants, flie boy, flie boy, flie. ^^'^ 

90 boy. 1778, f. 91 indeed: ^TaJbes out a Casketj W (Tfuy tit ^"^^^^ 

down ; and she takes out a casket.) Dy 94 by tb' eye Q^, f. 99 io* 

deed: law F 1711 indeed la 1750, f. passim loi a my] o'my F, f. 

boy. 1778, £. 105—6 Squire^ and Dwarf e. J Tim and George. IJjS, (, 

passim 1 1 5 in Qt, f. 1 16 enchanted 1 778, f. passim 1 17 htVtujrA 
1 778, f. 1 18 Exeut, etc.] Exit with Michael, leaving a casket. 1778, (. 


34 The Knight of the burning Pestle [act n 

[28] Safe. Lace on my helme againe : what noise is this ? 

«aoA gentle Lady flying? the imbrace 

Of some vncurteous knight, I will releiue her. 
Go squire, and say, the Knight that weares this pestle. 
In honour of all Ladies, sweares reuenge 
Vpon that recreant coward that pursues her. 

"5 Go comfort her, and that same gentle squire 

That beares her companie. Squire. I go braue Knight. 
Rafe. My trustie Dwarfe and friend, reach me my 
And hold it while I sweare : First by my knight-hood, 

«3o Then by the soule of Amadis de Gaule, 
My famous Ancestor, then by my sword, 
The beauteous Brionella girt about me. 
By this bright burning pestle of mine honour. 
The lining Trophic, and by all respect 

135 Due to distressed Damsels, here I vow 
Neuer to end the quest of this faire Lady, 
And that forsaken squire, till by my valour 
I gaine their liberty. Dwarfe. Heauen blesse the Knight 
That thus reliues poore errant Gentlewomen. Exu 

MO Wife. I marrie Rafe, this has some fauour in't, I 
would see the proudest of them all offer to carrie his 
bookes after him. But George, I will not haue him 
go away so soone, I shall bee sicke if he go awaj-, 
that I shall ; call Rafe againe George, call Rafe again, 

145 1 pre'thee sweet heart let him come fight before me, 

and let's ha somme drums, and some trumpets, and 

let him kill all that comes neere him, and thou lou'st 

me George. 

at. Peace a little bird, hee shall kill them all and 

150 they were twentie more on 'em then there are. £»^ 

120 flying Q,, f. embrace Q,, f. passim 121 knight? 1778 \V 

knight I Dy 133 Pestle, 1750, f. honour 1750, f. 139 Exit,\ 

Exeunt. Dy 

ACT n] The Knight of the burning Pestle 35 

/a«p. Now Fortune, if thou bee'st not onely ill, 
Shew me thy better face, and bring about 
Thy desperate wheel, that I may clime at length 
And stand, this is our place of meeting, 
If loue haue any constancie. Oh age ! m 

Where onely wealthy men are counted happie: 
How shall I please thee? how deserue thy smiles? 
When I am onely rich in misery? [29] 

My fathers blessing, and this little coine 
Is my inheritance, a strong reuenew, x6o 

From earth thou art, and to the earth I giue thee. 
There grow and multiply, whilst fresher aire, ^/'« *** 

Breeds me a fresher fortune, how, illusion! 
What hath the Diuell coined himselfe before me? 
'tis mettle good, it rings well, I am waking, X65 

And taking too I hope, now Gods deere blessing 
Vpon his heart that left it here, 'tis mine. 
These pearles, I take it, were not left for swine. Exit, 

Wife. I do not like that this vnthrifty youth should 
embecill away the money, the poore Gentlewoman xt© 
his mother will haue a heauy heart for it God knowes. 

Cittiz. And reason good, sweet heart. 

Wife. But let him go, I'le tell Raph a tale in's eare 
shall fetch him againe with a Wanion I warrant him, 
if hee bee aboue ground, and besides Oeorge, heere ^75 
are a number of sufficient Gentlemen can witnesse, 
and my selfe, and your selfe, and the Musitians, if 
we be card in question, but here comes Baph, George, 
thou shalt here him speake, an he were an Emperall. 

154 sUnd. Dy, f. 157 thee, 1778, f. smiles, 1778, f. 160 rev- 
enue I 1778, f. 161 thee: [ TTirows away the money. Dy 163 for- 
tune. 1778, f. 164 What, 1778, f. devil F, f. passim 168 Exit, ] 

Exit Ttith the casket. Dy 178 question. [ Scene Ul^ Atwther part of 
the forest. Dy 179 an] as Q, F 1711 1750 1778 Dy. 

C 2 

36 The Knight of the burning Pestle [act ii 

Enter Bafe and Dwarf e. 
««o Baph. Comes not sir Squire againe? 
Dwar. Right courteous Knight, 
Your Squire doth come and with him comes the Lady. 

Enter mistresse Merr: and Michael, and Sqtiire. 
For and the Squire of Damsels as I take it. 
185 Rafe. Madam if any seruice or deuoire 

Of a poore errant Knight may right your wrongs, 
Command it, I am prest to giue you succour, 
For to that holy end I beare my Armour, 

Mist. mer. Alas sir, I am a poore (Gentlewoman, 
190 and I haue lost my monie in this forrest. 

Rafe. Desart, you would say Lady, and not lost 
Whilst I haue sword and launce, dry vp your teares 
Which ill befits the beauty of that face : 
[30] And tell the storie, if I may request it, 
X95 Of your disasterous fortune. 

Mist. mer. Out alas, I left a thousand pound, a 
thousand pound, e'ne all the monie I had laid vp for 
this youth, vpon the sight of your Maistership, you 
lookt so grim, and as I may say it, sauing your 
«oo presence, more like a Giant then a mortall man. 
Rafe. I am as you are Ladie, so are they 
All mortall, but why weepes this gentle Squire. 

Mist mer. Has hee not cause to weepe doe you 
thinke, when he hath lost his inheritance? 
«>5 Rafe. Yong hope of valour, weepe not, I am here 
That will confound thy foe and paie it deere 
Vpon his coward head, that dares denie, 
Distressed Squires and Ladies equitie. 
I haue but one horse, on which shall ride 

182 Lady 1750 184 Fair, and 1750 Ralph, Fair! and 1778 W 

193 befit 1778, f. 201 they, 1778 W, they ; Dy 202 mortal. 1778, f. 
209 on] upon 1750 1778 W. 

ACT n] The Knight of the htmmg Pestle 37 

This Ladie faire behind me. and before »• 

This courteous Squire, fortune will giue vs more 

Vpon our next aduenture: fairelie speed 

Beside vs Squire and Dwarfe to do vs need. Exnmt. 

CU. Did I not tell you Xel what your man would 
doe ? by the taith of my bodie wench, for cleane action »«$ 
and good deliuerie they may all cast their caps at him. 

Wife. And so they may i'faith. for I dare speake 
it boldly, the twelue Companies of London cannot 
match him, timber for timber, well George, and hee be 
not inueigled by some of these paltrie Plaiers, I ha »> 
much maruell, but George wee ha done our parts if 
the boy haue any grace to be thankefull. 

Cittiz. Yes I warrant thee duckling. 

Enter Humphrey and Luce. 

Hum. Good Mistresse iMce how euer I in fault am »s 
For your lame horse; you're welcome vnto Waliham. 
But which way now to go or what to saie 
I know not truely till it be broad daie. 

Luce. O feare not Maister Humphrey^ 1 am guide 
For this place good enough. Hum. Then vp and ride, ^v> 
Or if it please you walke for your repose. 
Or sit, or if you will go plucke a rose: [31] 

Either of which shall be indifferent. 
To your good friend and Humphrey^ whose consent 
Is so entangled euer to your will, «3$ 

As the poore harmelesse horse is to the Mill. 

Luce. Faith and you say the word we'le e'ne sit downe 
And take a nap. Hum. Tis better in the Towne, 
Where we may nap together, for beleeue me 
To sleepe without a snatch would mickle grieue me. >4« 

219 timber. 1778, f. 223 duckling. [Scenr IW— Anothrr part 

of $ke forest. Dy 226 horse, 1778, f. 

38 The Knight of the burning Pestle [act n 

Luce. You Ve merrie Maister HuwipAr^. Hum. So I am. 
And haue bene euer merrie from my Dam. 
Luce. Your nurce had the lesse labour. 
Hum, Faith it may bee, 
•45 Vnlesse it were by chance I did beray mee. ^^ 

Ic^. Luce deere friend Luce. Luce. Heere lasper. 
lasp. You are mine. 

Hum. If it be so, my friend, you vse me fine, 
What do you thinke I am? lasp. An arrant noddie 
«5o Hum. A word of obloquie, now by Gods bodie, 
rie tell thy maister for I know thee well. 

laep. Nay, and you be so forward for to tell. 
Take that, and that, and tell him sir I gaue it, 
And saie I paid you well. Hum. O sir I haue it, 
«55 And do confesse the paiement, praie be quiet. 
liisp. Go, get to your night-cap and the diet, 
To cure your beaten bones. Luce. Alas poore Humphrie 
Gret thee some wholsome broth with sage and comfrie : 
A little oile of Roses and a feather, 
•«oTo noint thy backe withall. Hum. When I came 

^ Would I had gone to Paris with lohn Dorrie. 

Luce. Fare-well my prettie Nump, I am verie sorrie 
I cannot beare thee companie. Hum. Fare-well, 
a65 The Diuels Dam was neVe so bang'd in hell. ,^^, 

Wife. This yong la^per will proue me another ^»"w; 
Things, a my conscience and he may be suflfered; 
George, dost not see George how a swaggers, and flies 
[32] at the very heads a fokes as he were a Drago ; well 
•70 if I do not do his lesson for wronging the poore 
Gentleman, I am no true woman, his friends that 

249 noddie. Q, f. 250 obloquy. 1778, f. 254 well. [Beats htm. 
1778, f. 256 gel to] get you to Q„ f. 261 hither, Q,, f. 

263 Numps, 1750 267 thing SM a] o' Dy 269 folks 1778, f. 

269 Drago;] Dragon; Q, F 171 1 1750 dragon? r778, f. 271 woman. 
1778. f. 

ACT n] The Knight of the burning Pestle 39 

brought him vp might haue bene better occupied, 
I wis, then ha taught him these fegaries, hee*s e'ne 
in the high-way to the gallows, God blesse him. 

Cit. You're too bitter, conny, the yong man may «75 
do wel enough for all this. 

Wife. Come hither Maister Humfrey, has hee hurt 
you? now beshrew his fingers for't, here sweet heart, 
here's some greene ginger for thee, now beshrew my 
heart but a has pepper-nel in's head, as big as a ««o 
pullets egge, alas swete lamb, how thy Tempels beate ; 
take the peace on him sweete heart, take the peace 
on him. ^tr 

a boy, 

Cii. No, no, you talke like a foolish woman. Fie 
ha Raph fight with him, and swing him vp welfau- «8s 
ourdlie, sirrah boie come hither, let Rajyh come in 
and fight with lasper. 

Wife. I, and beate him well, he's an vnhappy boy. 

Boy. Sir you must pardon vs, the plot of our Plaie 
lies contrarie, and 'twill hazard the spoiling of our Plaie. a*© 

Cit Plot mee no plots, Tie ha Raph come out, I'le 
make your house too hot for you else. 

Boy. Why sir he shall, but if anie thing fall out 
of order, the Gentlemen must pardon vs. 

Cit. Go your waies goodjiian boie. Tie hold him •9$ / 
a pennie he shall haue his bellie-fuU of fighting now, 
ho heere comes Raph, no more. 

Enter Raph, mistresse Merri: Michael^ Squire, 
and Dwarf e. 
Raph. What Knight is that Squire, aske him if he keep 3<» 
The passage, bound by loue of Ladie faire, 

273 ha] have Q, f. 278 for't 1 1778, f. 279 thee. 1778, f. 

285 swinge F, f. wclfavourdly.- W, f. 286 hither. (Enter Boy.) Dy 

295 boy I (Exit Boy.) Dy 296 now. 1778 297 Ralph I 1778, f. 

more. [ SciNE V,^ Another part of the forest. \>f 300 that, F, f. 

Squire? 177S, f. 

40 The Knight of the burning Pestle [act ii 

Or else but prickant. Hum. Sir I am no Knight, 
But a poore Gentleman, that this same night, 
Had stolne from me on yonder Greene, 
305 My louelie wife, and suflfered to bee seene 
Yet extant on my shoulders such a greeting, 
That whilst I liue, I shall thinke of that meeting. 

Wife. I Raph hee beate him vnmercifuUy, Raph, 
and thou spar st him Raph I would thou wert hangd. 
[33] 3«o CU. No more, wife no more. 

Rafe. Where is the caitife wretch hath done this 
Lady your pardon, that I may proceed 
Vpon the quest of this iniurious Knight. 
3*5 And thou faire Squire repute me not the worse. 
In leaning the great venture of the purse. 

And the rich casket till some better leasure, and . 

Hum. Here comes the Broker hath purloined my 
3«> Raph. Go, Squire, and tell him I am here. 
An Errant Knight at Armes, to craue deliuery 
Of that faire Lady to her owne Knights armes. 
If he deny, bid him take choice of ground, 
And so defye him. Squire. From the Knight that beares 
3»5 The golden Pestle, I defie thee Knight. 
Vnlesse thou make faire restitution. 
Of that bright Lady. 

lasp. Tell the Knight that sent thee 
Hee is an Asse, and I will keepe the wench 
33« And knocke his Head-peece. 

Raph. Knight, thou art but dead. 
If thou recall not thy vncurteous tearmes. 

Wife. Breakers pate Raph, breakers pate Raph, 

304 on] upon 1750 1778 W 305-6 (to . . . shoulders) 1750, C 

312 deed? Q„ f. 325 knight, 1750, f. 331 Knight om. F 1711 

ACT nj The Knight of the burning Pestle 4* 

lasper. Come Knight, I am readv for you, now Smauka 

T> ^ 1 ' " away kis 

your Pestel Ptstie. 

Shall try what temper, sir, your Morters oflF 
With that he stood vpright in his stirrops. 
And gaue the Knight of the Calue-skinne such a knocke. 
That he forsooke his horse and downe he felL m'> 

And then he leaped vpon him and plucking of his 

Hum, Nay, and my noble Knight be downe so soone. 
Though I can scarcely go I needs must runne. ^'^ 

Wife. Runne Raph, runne Baph, runne for thy life boy. an/^M, 
lasper comes, lasper comes. 

lasper. Come Luce, we must haue other Armes for you. 
Uumphery and Golden Pestle both adiew. Exami. 

Wife. Sure the diuell, God blesse vs. is in this 
Springald, why George, didst euer see such a fire-drake. j5» [34] 
I am afraid my boie*s miscaried, if he be, though hee 
were Maister Mertfthoughts sonne a thousand times, if 
there bee any Law in Englavid Fie make some of them 
smart for t. 

Cit, No, no, I haue found out the matter sweete- isj 
heart, lasper is inchanted, as sure as we are heere. he 
is inchanted, he could no more haue stood in Raph*s 
hands, then I can stand in my Lord Maiors, Fie haue 
a ring to discouer all inchantments, and Raph shall 
beate him yet : be no more vext for it shall be so. j^ 

Enter Raph, Squire, Dwarf e, mistresse Mery-thoughi 

and MichaeU. 
Wife. O husband heere's Raph againe, stay Raph 
let mee speake with thee, how dost thou Raph? art 

337 off] of. Q^ f. 339 knock [ knocks Ralph dcitn. Dy. 341 of] 

off Qj, f. 342 helmet 1750, f. [Anocks htm d4ntn. W 344 EiiL 

W. f. 346 comes I {Exit Ralph taking^ up the pestU. W Exit Ralph. I>y 
350 Fire-Drake ? 1750, f. 359 enchantmenU F, f. 360 so. ( Scenb III. 
W SCENi VI. Dj—Bf/orf the Bell Inn at IValtham. W, f. 

42 The Knight of the burning Pestle [act ii 

365 thou not shrodly hurt ? the foule great Lungeis laid 
vnmercifully on thee, there's some suger-candy for 
thee, proceed, thou shalt haue another bout with him. 
Cit. If Raph had him at the Fencing-schoole, if hee 
did not make a puppy of him, and driue him vp and 
370 downe the schoole he should nere come in my shop 

Mist. tner. Truely Maister Knight of the Burning 
Pestle I am weary. 

Mich. Indeed law mother and I am very hungry. 
375 Raph. Take comfort gentle Dame, and you faireSquire, 
For in this Desart there must needs be plac't, 
Many strong Castles, held by curteous Knights, 
And till I bring you safe to one of those, 
I sweare by this my Order nere. to leaue you. 
380 Wife. Well said Raph. George y Raph was euer com- 
fortable, was he not? Cit. Yes Ducke. 

Wife. I shall nere forget him, when wee had lost 
our child, you know, it was straid almost, alone, to 
Puddle-wharfe and the Criers were abroad for it, and 
3«5 there it had drown'd it selfe but for a Sculler, Rajth 
was the most comfortablest to me ; peace Mistresse, 
saies he, let it go. Fie get you another as good, did 
he not George? did he not say so? 
Cit. Yes indeed did he mouse. 
[36] 390 Dwarf e, I would we had a messe of Pottage, and 
a pot of drinke. Squire, and were going to bed. 

Squire, Why we are at Waltham Townes end, and 
that's the Bell Inne. 

Dwarfe, Take courage valiant Knight, Damsel, & 
395 Squire 

I haue discouered, not a stone cast oflf, 

365 shrodly] shrewdly Q„ f. 375 you] your Q, F 171 1 1750 

1778 Dy 382 him. Dy 383-85 (you . . sculler) 1778. f." 

387 you om. W 395 Squire 1 1778, f. 396 stone's 1750, f. 

ACT n] The Knight of the burning Pestle 43 

An ancient Castle held by the old Knight 

Of the most holy order of the Belly 

Who giues to all Knights errant entertainer 

There plenty is of food, and all prepared, 400 

By the white hands of his owne Lady deere. 

He hath three Squires that welcome all his Guests. 

The first high Chamberlino, who will see 

Our beds prepared, and bring vs snowy sheetes, 

Where neuer foote-man stretched his butter'd Hams. 405 

The second hight Tastero, who will see 

Our pots full filled and no froth therein. 

The third a gentle Squire Ostlero hight, 

Who will our Palfries slicke with wisps of straw, 

And in the Maunger put them Oa tes enough, 4x0 

And neuer grease their teeth with candle snufife. 

Wife. That same Dwarfe's a pretty boy, but the 
Squire's a grout-nole. 

Raph. Knocke at the Gates my Squire with stately 
launce. -fi>«^ 

Tap. Who's there, youVe welcome Gentlemen, will ^ 
you see a roome? [burning Pestle, 

Dwarf e. Right curteous and valiant Knight of the 
This is the Squire Tapstero. 

Raph. Faire Squire Tapstero, I a wandering Knight 4ao 
Hight of the burning Pestle, in the quest 
Of this faire Ladies Casket, and wrought purse, 
Loosing my selfe in this vast Wildemesse 
Am to this Castle well by fortune brought, 
Where hearing of the goodly entertaine An 

Your Knight of holy Order of the Bell 
Giues to all Damsels and all errant Knights, 
I thought to knocke, and now am bold to enter. 

403 high] hight 1 7 50, f. 406 Tastero,] Tapstero, 1778, f. passim 
410 manger Q„ f. 415 lance. [ Tim knocks at the door. Dy 

423 loosing ] losing Q|, f. 

44 The Knight of the burning Pestle [act n 

[36] TapBter. An't please you see a chamber, you are 
430 very welcome. Exeu 

Wife. Oeorge I would haue something done, and 
I cannot tell what it is. 
at. What is it Nell 

Wife. Why George^ shall Raph beate no body againe ? 
435 Prethee sweete-heart let him. 

CU. So he shall Nely and if I ioyne with him, wee'le 
knocke them all. 

Enter Humphery and Merchant. 
Wife. O George here's maister Humphery againe 
440 now, that lost Mistresse Lwce, and Mistresse Lucies 
father, Maister Humphery will do some -bodies errant 
I warrant him. 

Humf Father, it's true, in armes I nere shall claspe her, 
For shee is stolne away by your man lasper. 
445 Wife. I thought he would tell him. 

March. Vnhappy that I am to loose my child. 
Now I beginne to thinke on laspers words. 
Who oft hath vrg d me thy foolishnesse. 
Why didst thou let her go ? thou loust her not, 
450 That wouldst bring home thy life, and not bring her. 
Hum. Father forgiue me, shall I tell you true. 
Looke on my shoulders they are blacke and blew. 
Whilst too and fro faire Ltuce and I were winding. 
He came and basted me with a hedge binding. 
455 March. Get men and horses straight, we will be there 
Within this houre, you know the place againe. 
Hum. I know the place, where he my loines did 

437 all. [ SCENK IV. W Scene VII. Dy— London. W A Room in the 
House of Venterwels. W, f. 441 father. 1 7 78, f. errant] arrant, 

Qt Q« F 171 1 1750 errand, 1778, f. 448 vrgM me] urged to me 

1750, f. foolishness: 1778, f. 451 me. Dy shall I] I shall Q, Q, 

F 1711 1750 1778 true? W, f. 456 hour. 1778, f. againe? Q,, f. 

ACT ii] The Knight of the burning Pestle 45 

rie get six horses, and to each a saddle. 

Mar, Meane time Fie go talke with laspers father. Exeunt. 

Wife. George, what wilt thou laye with mee now, 
that Maister Hiiinphery has not Mistresse Luce yet, 
speake George, what wilt thou laie with me? 

at. No Nely I warrant thee lasper is at Puckeridge 
with her, by this. 4*5 

Wife. Nay George, you must consider Mistress 
Lucies feete are tender, and, besides, 'tis daxke and [37] 
I promise you tuely, I doe not see how hee should 
get out of W a Itm forrest with her yet 

Cit. Nay cunny, what wilt thou laie with me that 47* 
Baph has her not yet. 

Wife. 1 will not lay against Baph hunny, because 
I haue not spoken with him, but looke George, peace, 
heere comes the merry old Gentleman againe. 

Enter old Merrie-tkought. 47$ 

Old mer. When it was growne to darke midnight. 
And all were fast asleepe. 
In came Margarets grimely Ghost. 
And stood at Williams feete. 

I haue mony, and meate and drinke before hand, 4t« 
till to morrow at noone, why should I be sad? mee 
thinkes I haue halfe a dozen louiall spirits within mee, 
I am three merry men, and three merry men. To what 
end should any man be sad in this world? giue me 
a man that when hee goes to hanging cries, troule ^ 
the blacke bowle to mee : and a woeman that will sing 

460 ric] 1 will 1750, f. Exeunt severally. Dy 46S loely ^ 

truly Q,, f. 469 Waltham Q„ f. 471 yet? 1778, f. 473 Wm. W, f. 
[ SCKNB VIII.— y4 room in MsRRYTOUGHT's house. Dy 474 agfaiiK. 

[ Scene S.—An Apartment in Mxrkythougkt's House. W 476 Mer, 
(sings) W, f. 482 me ; [ Sings. J am three merry men^ and thre^ 

merry men: 1750 Quotes 1778 W Saudi print 1>J 4*5 Trovel the 

black bovfl to me. 1750 Quotes 1778 W Small print Dy 

46 The Knighi of the burning Pestle [act n 

a cath in her Trauell. I haue scene a man come by 

my dore, with a serious face, in a blacke cloake« 

without a hat-band, carrying his head as if hee lookt 
I for pinnes in the streete, I haue lookt out of my window 
49ohalfe a yeare after, and haue spide that mans head 

vpon London-bridge : 'tis vile, neuer trust a Tailor that 

does not sing at his worke, his mind is of nothing 

but filching. 

Wife. Marke this George, tis worth noting: God- 
49S /rry my Tailor, you know, neuer sings, and hee had 

foureteene yards to make this Gowne, and He be 

swome Mistresse Fefinistone the Drapers wife had one 

made with twelue. 

Old mer. Tis mirth that fils the veines with bloud. 
sooMore then wine, or sleepe, or food. 

Let each man keepe his heart at ease. 

No man dies of that disease. 

He that would his body keepe 

From diseases, must not weepe, 
v»s But who euer laughes and sings, 
[38] Neuer he his body brings 

Into feuers, gouts, or rhumes, 

Or lingringl}' his longs consumes: 

Or meets with aches in the bone, 
5x0 Or Catharhes, or griping stone : 

But contented Hues for aye, 

The more he laughes, the more he may. 

Wife. Looke George, how saist thou by this George! 

is't not a fine old man? Now Gods blessing a' thy 
5*5 sweet lips. When wilt thou be so merry George! 

Faith thou art the frowningst little thing when thou 

art angry, in a Countrey. 

486 cath] catch Q„ f. 490 spied Q3, f. 492 of] on 1778 W 

508 lungs Q,, f. 

ACT n] Ttie Knight of the burning Pestle 47 

EtUer Merchant. 

Cit. Peace Coney, thou shalt see him taken downe 
too I warrant thee; here's Luces father come now. s»o 

Old mer. As you came from Walsingham, fro that 
holy land, there met you not with my tru-loue by 
the way as you came 

March. Oh Maister Merri-thought I my daughter's gone. 
This mirth becomes you not, my daughters gone. 5*5 

Old Merri. Why an if she be, what care I? 
Or let her come or go, or tarry. 

March, Mocke not my miserj', it is your sonne, 
Whom I haue made my owne, when all forsooke him. 
Has stolne my onely ioy, my childe away. 53© 

Old Mer. He set her on a milk-white steed, & 
himselfe vpo a gray, 
He neuer tum'd his face againe, but he bore her 
quite away. 

March. Vnworthy of the kindnesse I haue shewn 535 
To thee, and thine: too late I well perceiue 
Thou art consenting to my daughters losse. 

Old mer. Your daughter, what a stur s here wee 
yer daughter? Let her goe, thinke no more on her. 
but sing lowd. If both my sons were on the gallows, 540 
1 would sing downe, down, downe : they fall downe, 
and arise they neuer shall. 

March. Oh might I behold her once againe. 
And she once more embrace her aged sire. 

Old merri. Fie, how scuruily this goes : and she ms 
once more imbrace her aged sire ? youl make a dogge 

520 thcc. [Entrr Venterwbll. W, f. 521 A/er, (singi) W, f. 

fro J from Q,, f. that] the Q, Q, F 1711 1730 1778 W 523 came? 

175O1 f- 532 vpo] upon Q,, f. 538 wcc ycr ] wi* y'r F 1711 

1750 wi* your 1778, f. 541—42 In sUnzaic form: Down . . . fall^ 

Down . . . shall. 1 750, f. 543 (but) 1 behold 1 750 I (but) behold W 

545—46 'And . . . sire?' 1778, f. 

48 The Knight of the burning Pestle [act ii 

on her, will yee? she cares much for her aged sire 
I warrant you.. 
[39] She cares cares not for her daddy, nor shee cares 
S50 not for her mammie. 

For she is, she is, sheis, she is my Lord of Low-ganes 
March. For this thy scome, I will pursue 
That Sonne of thine to death. 
555 Old merri. Do, and when you ha kild him, 

Giue him flowers i'now Palmer : giue him flowers i'now, 
Giue him red, and white, and blew, greene, and yellow. 
March. Il'e fetch my daughter. 
Old merri. Il'e heare no more a your daughter, it 
56ospoyles my mirth. 

March. I say Fie fetch my daughter. 
Old merri. Was neuer man for Ladies sake, doume, 
Tormented as I poore sir Guy? de derry doume 
565 For Lucies sake, that Lady bright, doume, downe^ 
As euer men beheld with eye? de derry doume. 
March. H'e be reueng'd by heauen. Exry 

AfusicJ^f. Finis Actus semndi. 

Wife. How do'st thou like this George? 
570 Cit. Why this is well coney : but if Raph were hot 
once, thou shouldst see more. 

Wife. The Fidlers go againe husband. 

at. I Nell, but this is scuruy musicke : I gaue the 

whoreson gallowes money, and I thinke hee has not 

575 got mee the waits of South-warke, if I heare him not 

anan, Il'e twinge him by the eares. You Musicians, 

play Baloo. 

551—52 In slanzaic form : She . . . She . . . For . . . Lord . . . Lassie. 
>750i f- 556 i'now] enow 1778, f. 559 a your] o'your F, f. 

567 Exnint severally. Dy 568 om. Dy 571 more. [Music. Dy 

574 gallows-money W 575 him] 'cm 1750, f. 576 anon, 171 1, f. 

ACT m] The Knight of the burning Pestle 49 

Wife. No good George, lets ha Lachrimae. 
CiU Why this is it cony. 

Wife, It's all the better George : now sweet lambe, 580 
what story is that painted vpon the cloth ? the confu- 
tation of Saint Paul ? 

Cit. No lambe, that Raph and Lucrece, 
Wife. Raph and Ludrece? which Raph} our Raphf 
CiL No mouse, that was a Tartarian. 5«s 

Wife. A Tartarian ? well, Fwood the fidlers had done, 
that wee might see our Raph againe. 

Actus tertius, Scoena prima. [40] 

Enter lasper and Luce. 

laap. Come my deere deere, though we haue lost 
our way. 
We haue not lost our selues : are you not weary 
With this nights wandring, broken from your rest? 
And frighted with the terrour that attends s 

The darknesse of these wilde vn-peopled place? 

Luce. No my best friend, I cannot either feare. 
Or entertaine a weary thought, whilst you 
(The end of all my full desires) stand by me. 
Let them that loose their hopes, and Hue to languish w 
Amongst the number of forsaken louers, 
Tell the long weary steps, and number time. 
Start at a shadow, and shrinke vp their bloud. 
Whilst I (possest with all content and quiet) 
Thus take my prettie loue, and thus imbrace him. 15 

lasp. You haue caught me Luce, so fast, that whilst 
I liue 
I shall become your faithfull prisoner, 

583 that's Q„ f. 586 wood] would 1778, f. Act III SciNi I. 

lyaliham Forest. W f. I my dccrc dccrc, ] my dcarc Q, F 17 1 1 

my dear dear, 1750 1778 Dy my dear deer, W 6 these] this Q„ f. 

10 loose ] lose Q,, f. 


50 The Knight of the burning Pestle [act in 

And were these chaines for euer. Come sit downe, 
•o And rest your body, too too delicate 
For these disturbances; so, will you sleepe? 
Come, do not be more able then you are, 
I know you are not skilfull in these watches : 
For women are no souldiers: be not nice, 
as But take it, sleepe I say. 

lAice. I cannot sleepe, 
Indeed I cannot friend. 

lasp. Why then wee'l sing. 
And try how that will worke vpon our sences. 
30 Luce. Il'e sing, or say, or anything but sleepe. 

:l€i8. Come little Mer-maid, rob me of my heart 
With that inchanting voyce. 

Luce. You mocke me lasper. 

[41] ^on<j. 

35 lasp. Tell me (deerest) what is lou^Y 

Luce. 'Tis a lightning from aboue, 
'Tis an arroic, 'tis a fire 
'Tis a boy they call desire. 
'Tis a smile 
40 Doth beguile 

las. The poore hearts of men that jyroue. 
Tell me more, are women true ? 
Luce. Some lone change^ and so do you. 
las. Are they faire, and neuer kind? 
45 Luce. Yes, when men turne with the winde. 

las. Are they froward? 
Luce. Euer toward, 
Those that hue, to loue anew. 

19 were J wcarc Q,, f. 21 disturbances. fTAfj- stt doipn.j Dy 

34 Song. [ 77tn^ sing, Dy 47 toward Q„ f. 

ACT ra] The Knight of the burning Pestle 5' 

lasp. Dissemble it no more, I see the God 
Of heauy sleepe, lay on his heauy mace s® ^ 

Vpon your eye-lids. Luce. I am very heauy. ) 

lasp. Sleep, sleep, & quiet rest crowne thy sweet 
thoughts : 
Keepe from her faire bloud, distempers, startings, 
Horrors, and fearefull shapes: let all her dreames « 
Be ioyes, and chast delights, imbraces, wishes, 
And such new pleasures, as the rauisht soule 
Giues to the sences. So, my charmes haue tooke. 
Keepe her you powers diuine, whilst I contemplate 
Vpon the wealth and beauty of her minde. *** 

She is onely faire, and constant: onely kinde. 
And onely to thee lasper. Oh my ioyes I 
Whither will you transport me? let not fulnesse 
Of my poore buried hopes, come vp together, 
And ouer-charge my spirits: I am weake *' 

Some say (how euer ill) the sea and women 
Are gouem'd by the Moone, both ebbe and flow, 
Both full of changes: yet to them that know, 
And truly iudge, these but opinions are. 
And heresies to bring on pleasing warre ^ 

Betweene our tempers, that without these were l*^J 

Both void of ater-loue, and present feare. 
Which are the best of Cupid. Oh thou child! 
Bred from dispaire, I dare not entertaine thee, 
Hauing a loue without the faults of women, ^^ 

And greater in her perfect goods then men: 
Which to make good, and please my selfe the stronger. 
Though certainly I am certaine of her loue. 
He try her, that the world and memory 

50 sleep 1778. f. 51 heavy. [Slurps. W, f. 52 Sleep, sleep; 

1778, f. 54 distempers ] all distempers 1750 1778 W 56 chaste F, f. 

64 hopes F, f. 65 weak; 1750 weak 1 1778 W weak. Dy 72 ater- 
loue] after-love Q„ f. feare; 171 1, f. 73 child 1778, f. 

D 2 

52 The Knight of the burning Pestle [act in 

80 May sing to after times, her constancie. 
Lucej Luce, awake. Luce. Why do you fright me, friend. 
With those distempered lookes ? what makes your sword 
Drawne in your hand? who hath oiFended you? 
I pre'thee lasper sleepe, thou art wilde with watching. 

85 Ic^, Come make your way to heauen, and bid 

the world 
< (With all the villanies that sticke upon it) 

Fare-well; youV for another life. Imcc, Oh lasper \ 
How haue my tender yeares committed euill, 

90 (Especially against the man I loue) 
Thus to be cropt vntimely? lasp. Foolish girle, 
Canst thou imagine I could loue his daughter, 
That flung me from my fortune into nothing? 
Discharged me his seruice, shut the doores 

95 Vpon my pouerty, and scom'd my prayers. 
Sending me, like a boat without a mast, 

"^To sinke or swin? Come, by this hand you dye, 
I must haue life and bloud to satisfie 
Your fatheis wrongs. 

too Wife. Away George, away, raise the watch atLudgate, 
and bring a Mittimus from the lustice for this desperate 
villaine. Now I charge you G^entlemen, see the King's 
peace kept. O my heart what a varlet's this to ofifer 
manslaughter vpon the harmlesse Gentlewoman? 

"5 Cit. I warrant thee (sweet heart) wee'l haue him 

Luce, Oh lasper ! be not cruell, 
If thou wilt kill mee, smile and do it quickly. 
And let not many deaths appeare before me. 
[43] "o I am a woman made of feare and loue, 

A weake, weake woman, kill not with thy eyes, 

80 constancy. [Draws, W, f. hts sitord. Dy 81 Luce I Luce 1 

1778, f. 97 swin] swim Q,, f. iii woman; 1778, f. 

ACT ra] The Knight of the burning Pestle 53 

They shoot me through and through. Strike I am 

And dying stil I loue thee. -^«^ 

March. Where abouts. Hwnpkrty, 

l€»p. No more of this, now to my selfe againe. <*«^ ^'f 

Hnrn. There, there he stands with sword like mar- ''*^' 
tial knight 
Drawne in his hand, therefore beware the fight «ao 

You that be wise: for were I good sir Beuis^ 
I would not stay his comming, by your leaues. 

March. Sirrah, restore my daughter. lasp. Sirrah, no. 

March. Vpon him then. 

Wife. So, downe with him, downe with him, downe tn 
with him: cut him i'th leg boies, cut him i'th leg. 

March. Come your waies Minion, Il'e prouide a Cage 
For you, your growne so tame. Horse her away. 

Humph. Truly Ime glad your forces haue the day. exeunt. 

lasp. They are gone, and I am hurt, my loue is lost, ^^^ 
Neuer to get againe. Oh me vnhappy! 
Bleed, bleed, and dye, I cannot: Oh my folly! 
Thou hast betraid me. Hope where art thou fled? 
Tell me if thou bee'st any where remaining. 
Shall I but see my loue againe? Oh no! 135 

She will not daine to looke vpon her butcher. 
Nor is it fit she should ; yet I must venter. 
Oh chance, or fortune, or what ere thou art 
That men adore for powerfull, heare my cry. 
And let me louing. Hue; or loosing, die. Exit, 

Wife. Is a gone George} 

Cit. I conie. 

112 Strike I I am ready; 1778, f. 115 Enter Venturewkix, 

Humphrey ani/ Attendants. Dy 116 Whereabouts? Q„ f. 117 again. 
\ Aside Dy 118 sword, 171 1, f. 1 19 knight, 1711, f. I2i be] 

are Q, F 171 1 1750 1778 124 then. [Luce is torn from ]fAYtSi. W 

They attack Jasper and force Ijjcs. from him. Dy 128 your] you're 
Q„ f. 132 die. 1778 W die! Dy 

54 The Knight of the burning Pestle [act m 

Wife. Marie and let him goe (sweet heart), by the 

faith a my body a has put me into such a fright, that 

y 145 1 tremble (as they say) as 'twere an Aspine leafe : 

looke a my little finger George^ how it shakes; now 

i truth euery member of my body is the worse for't. 

OU, Come, hugge in mine armes sweet mouse, hee 

[44] shall not fright thee any more : alas mine owne deere 

150 heart, how it quiuers. 

Enter Mist r esse Merrithought^ Rdfe, Michall, Sqtiire 

Dwarf e. Host, and a Tapster. 
Wife. O Bafe, how dost thou Safe? how hast thou 
slept to night? has the knight vs*d thee well? 
155 bit. Peace Nell, let Bafe alone. 

Tapst Maister, the reckoning is not paid. 
Bafe. Right curteous knight, who for the orders sake 
Which thou has tane, hang'st out the holy bell. 
As I this flaming pestle beare about, 
160 We render thankes to your puissant selfe. 
Your beauteous Lady, and your gentle Squires, 
For thus refreshing of our wearied limbes, 
Stiffned with hard atchieuements in wilde desert. 
Tapst, Sir there is twelue shillings to pay. 
»65 Bafe, Thou merry Squire Tapstero, thankes to thee. 
For comforting our soules with double lug, 
And if aduentrous fortune pricke thee forth. 
Thou louiall Squire, to follow feats of armes, 
Take heed thou tender euery Ladies cause, 
X70 Euery truery true Knight, and euery damsell faire faire : 
But spill the bloud of trecherous Sarazens, 
And false inchanters, that with magicke spels, 
Haue done to death full many a noble Knight. 

147 in truth Q„ f. 150 quivers. [ Scene II. A Room in the Bell- 
Inn. W, f. Walthanu Dy 158 hast F, f. tane,] ta'cn, 1711, f. 
167 adventurous F, f. 170 truery ora. Q„ f. faire faire ; ] fair ; Q„ f. 

ACT m] The Knight of the burning Pestle 55 

Host. Thou valiant Knight of the burning Pestle, 
giue eare to me, there is twelue shillings to pay, and «75 
as I am a true Knight, I will not bate a peny. 

Wife. George^ I pray thee tell me, must Rafe pay 
twelue shillings now? 

Cit. No Nell^ no, nothing but the old Knight is 
merrie with Rafe. xso 

Wife. O is't nothing else? Rafe will be as merry 
as he. 

Rafe. Sir Knight, this mirth of yours becomes 
you well, 
But to requite this liberall curtesie, xss 

If any of your Squires will follow armes, 
Hee shall receiue from my heroicke hand 
A Knight-hood, by the vertue of this Pestle. [45] 

Host. Faire Knight I thanke you for your noble offer. 
Therefore gentle Knight, X90 

Twelue shillings you must pay, or I must cap you. 

Wife. Looke George, did not I tell thee as much, 
the Knight of the Bel is in earnest, Raph shall not 
bee beholding to him, giue him his money George, 
and let him go snickvp. 195 ' 

Ci. Cap Raph ? no ; hold your hand sir Knight of 
the Bel, theres your money, haue you anything to say 
to Raph now? Cap Raph? 

Wife. I would you should know it, Raph has friends 
that will not suffer him to be capt for ten times so »oo 
much, and ten times to the end of that, now take 
thy course Raph. 

M.mer. Come Michael, thou & I wil go home to 
thy father, he hath enough left to keep vs a day or 
two, and we'leset fellows abrod to cry our Purse & »o5 
our Casket, Shal we Michael ? 

177 pray thcc ] prcthcc Qi Qi F 171 1 prithee 1750, f. 196 Ralph I 

Dy 198 Raph}] Ralph 1 Dy 201 that. 1778, f. 

56 The Knight of the burning Pestle [act m 

Mich. I, I pray Mother, intruth my feete are full of 
chilblaines with trauelling. 

Wife. Faith and those chilblanes are a foule trouble, 

«o Mistresse Merie-thaught when your youth comes home 

let him rub all the soles of his feete, and the heeles, 

and his ancles, with a mou^e skinne, or if none of 

your people can catch a mouse, when hee goes to 

bed, let him rowle his feete in the warme embers, 

•15 and I warrant you hee shall be well, and you may 

make him put his fingers betweene his toes & smell 

to them, it's very soueraigne for his head if he be 


Mist. mer. Maister Knight of the burning Pestle, 

»«o my son Michiiel and I, bid you farewel, I thanke your 

Worship heartily for your kindnesse. 

Raph. Fare-well faire Lady and your tender Squire, 
If, pricking through these Desarts, I do heare 
Of any traiterous Knight who through his guile, 
aas Hath light vpon your Casket and your Purse, 
I will despoile him of them and restore them. 
Mist. Mer. I thanke your Worship. ^^^ 

Raph. Dwarfe beare my shield, Squire eleuate my 
230 And now fare-well you Knight of holy BeU. 
Cit. I, I Raph, all is paid. 
[46] Raph. But yet before I go, speake worthy Knight, 
If ought you do of sad aduentures know. 
Where errant Knights may through his prowesse winne, 
«35 Etemall fame and free some gentle soules. 

From endlesse bonds of Steele and lingring paine. 

Host. Sirrah go to Nicke the Barbor, and bid him 
prepare himselfe, as I told you before, quickely. 

Tap. I am gone sir. -&/V 

209 trouble 1778, f 225 light] lit 1778 W 234 Knight 1711, f. 
win Q,, f. 235 souls 171 1, f. 237 Barber, Q„ f. passim 

ACT in] The Knight of the burning Pestle 57 

Host. Sir Knight, this wildemesse affoordeth none »4« 
But the great venter, where full many a Knight 
Hath tride his prowesse and come off with shame. 
And where I would not haue you loose your life, 
Against no man, but furious fiend of hell. 

Raph. Speake on sir Knight, tell what he is, and where, ns 
For heere I vow vpon my blazing badge, 
Neuer to blaze a day in quietnesse; 
But bread and water will I onely eate, 
And the greene hearbe and rocke shall be my couch. 
Till I have queld that man, or beast, or fiend, as© 

That workes such damage to all Errant Knights. 

Host. Not far from hence, neere to a craggy cliffe. 
At the North end of this distressed Towne, 
There doth stand a lowly house 

Ruggedly builded, and in it a Caue, «55 

In which an ougly Gyant now doth won, 
Ycleped Barbaroso: in his hand 
He shakes a naked lance of purest Steele, 
With sleeues tum'd vp, and him before he weares, 
A motley garment, to preserue his cloaths ««• 

From bloud of those Knights which he massacres. 
And Ladies Gent: without his dore doth hang 
A copper bason, on a prickant speare: 
At which, no sooner gentle Knights can knocke. 
But the shrill sound, fierce Barbaroso heares, a^s 

And rushing forth, bings in the errant Knight, 
And sets him downe in an inchanted chaire. 
Then with an Engine which he hath prepar'd. 
With forty teeth, he clawes his courtly crowne, [47] 

Next makes him winke, and vndemeath his chinne, 370 
Hee plants a brazen peece of mighty bord, 

242 tried F, f, 256 ougly] ugly Qt, f. 257 Barbturossa. Dy 

259 wears 171 1, f. 265 sound 171 1, f. 266 bings] brings Q,, f. 
271 bord] bore 1750 1778. 

58 The Knight of the burning Pestle [act m 

And knocks his bullets round about his cheeks, 
Whilst with his fingers, and an instrument 
With which he snaps his haire off, he doth fill 

275 The wretches eares with a most hideous noise. 
Thus euery Knight Aduenturer he doth trim, 
And now no creature dares encounter him. 

Raph. In Gods name, I will fight him, kinde sir, 
Go but before me to this dismall Caue, 

a8o Where this huge Gyant Barbaroso dwels, 
And by that vertue that braue Rosicleere, 
That damned brood of ougly Gyants slew, 
And Pabnerin Frannarco ouerthrew : 
I doubt not but to curbe this Traitor foule, 

a85 And to the Diuell send his guilty soule. 

Ho9t. Braue sprighted Knight, thus far I will performe 
This your request, Tie bring you with in sight 
Of this most lothsome place, inhabited 
By a more loathsome man: but dare not stay, 

»9o For his maine force soopes all he sees away. 

Baph. Saint George set on before, march Squire 
and page. £« 

Wife. Oeorge, dost thinke Baph will confound the 

395 Cit I hold my cap to a farthing hee does : why Nel 
I saw him wrastle with the great Dutch -man and 
hurle him. 

Wife. Faith and that Ducth-man was a goodly 
man, if all things were answerable to his bignesse, 

300 and yet they say there was a Scotsh-man higher then 
hee, and that they two and a Knight met, and saw 
one another for nothing, but of all the sights that 

278 him; 1778 him: W him. Dy 290 soopes] swoops Q^, f. 

291 on, 1750 on; 1778 W before I Dy 296 wrestle F, f. 

298 Ducth-man ] Dutch-man Q„ f. 301 and a Knight ] on a night 

1750 1778 

ACT m] The Knight of the burning Pestle 59 

euer were in London, since I was married, mee thinkes 
the little child that was so faire growne about the 
members was the prettiest, that, and the Uermophrodtte. 305 

at Nay by your leaue Nel, Niniuy was better. 

Wife. Nmiuie, O that was the story of lone and 
the Wall, was it not George? 

at Yes lam. f^'^^,,^ 

Wife. Looke George, heere comes Mistresse Merry- M^rry- 
thought againe, and I would haue Raph come and fight ^^ 
with the Giant, I tell you true, I long to see't. 

at. Good Mistresse Merry-thought be gone, I pray [48] 
you for my sake, I pray you forbeare a little, you 
shall haue audience presently, I haue a little businesse. 3*5 

Wife. Mistresse Merry-thought if it please you to 
refraine your passio a little, til Baph haue dispatch 
the Giant out of the way we shal think our selues 
much bound to you, I thank you good Mistresse 
Merry-thought. ^'^ ««^- 

Enter a boy. 

at. Boy, come hither, send away Baph and this 
whore-sonne Giant quickely. 

Boy. In good faith sir we cannot, you'le vtterly 
spoile our Play, and make it to be hist, and it cost 3«5 
money, you will not suffer vs to go on with our plot, 
I pray Gentlemen rule him. 

at. Let him come now and dispatch this, and I le 
trouble you no more. 

Boy. Will you giue me your hand of that? 330 

Wife. Giue him thy hand George, do, and Fie kisse 
him, I warrant thee the youth meanes plainely. 

307 lone] Joan 1711 1750 1778 W 309lamb.F.f. SOBNBlIIW,f. 

London, W The Street before Mcnythought's House. W 317 passion ] Q„ f. 
dispatcht Q,, f. 319 bound to you, ] bound to thank you : Q, Q, F 17 1 1 

1 7 50 1 7 78 W [ Exit Mistress Merrythought. Dy 322 hither. (Enter Boy.) 
Dy 326 plot. W, f. 

6o The Knight of the burning Pestle [act m 

Bay. rie send him to you presently. Exit 

Wife. I thanke you little youth, feth the child hath 

33S a sweete breath George, but I thinke it bee troubled 

with the wormes, Carduus Benedictus and Mares Milke 

were the onely thing in the world for't, O Raph's here 

George^ God send thee good lucke Raph. 

Enter Raph, Host, Squire, and Dwarf e. 

340 Host. Puissant Knight yonder his Mansion is, 
Lo where the speare and Copper Bason are, 
Behold that string on which hangs many a tooth, 
Drawne from the gentle iaw of wandring Knights, 
I dare not stay to sound, hee will appeare. ^g,// 

345 Raph. O faint not heart, Susan my Lady deere, 
The Coblers Maid in Milke-streete, for whose sakei 
I take these Armes, O let the thought of thee. 
Carry thy Knight through all aduenterous deeds, 
[49] And in the honor of thy beauteous selfe, 

350 May I destroy this monster Barbaroso, 

Knocke Squire vpon the Bason till it breake. 

With the shrill stroakes, or till the Giant speake. ^^ 

Wife. O George, the Giant, the Giant, now Raph 
for thy life. 

355 Barber. What fond vnknowing wight is this ? that dares 
So rudely knocke at Barbarossa's Cell, 
Where no man comes but leaues his fleece behind? 
Raph. I, traiterous Caitiffe, who am sent by fate 
To punish all the sad enormities 

360 Thou has committed against Ladies Gent 

334 '^(/3f (kissing him.) Dy youth (Exit Boy.) Dy fcth ] Faith W, f. 
336 worms ; 1778, f. 337 for't. Q,, f. [ Scene \V, —Before a ffarhers 
shop, Waltkam. Dy 338 George I 1778, f. Ralph I [Scene IV. Be/ore 
a Barber's Shop in IValtham, W 343 knights ! 1778, f. 345 heart ! 

1778, f. 350 Barbaroso I 1778, f. 351 break Q„ f. 352 speak. 
[ Tim knocks upon the bason, W, f. 353 Giant 1 Now 1 7 78, f. 

ACT m] The Knight of the burning Pestle 6i 

And errant Knights, traitor to God and men: 
Prepare thy selfe, this is the dismall houre 
Appointed for thee, to giue strickt account 
Of all thy beastly treacherous villanies. 

Barber. Foole-hardy Knight, full soone thou shalt aby 365 
This fond reproach, thy body will I bang, J^^^ *okes 

And loe vpon that string thy teeth shall hang: ^^, 

Prepare thy selfe, for dead soone shalt thou bee. 

Raph, Saint George for me. They fight. 

Barber, Gargantua for me. 370 

Wife. To him, Raph to him, hold vp the Giant, 
set out thy leg before Raph. 

at. Falsifie a blow Raph^ falsifie a blow, the Giant 
lies open on the left side. 

Wife. Beare't off, beare't of still ; there boy, O 37s 
Raphe's almost downe, Raph's almost downe. 

Raph. Susan inspire me, now haue vp againe. 

Wife. Vp, vp, vp, vp, vp, so Raph^ downe with him, 
downe with him Raph. 

at. Fetch him ore the hip boy. 380 

Wife. There boy, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, Raph. 

at. No Raph get all out of him first. 

Raph. Presumptuous man, see to what desperate end 
Thy treatchery hath brought thee, the iust Gods, 
Who neuer prosper those that do despise them, 38s 

For all the villanies which thou hast done 
To Knights and Ladies, now haue paid thee home [50] 
By my stiffe arme, a Knight aduenturous. 
But say vile wretch, before I send thy soule 
To sad Auemus whether it must go, 390 

What captiues holdst thou in thy sable caue. 

Barber. Go in and free them all, thou hast the day. 

375 of ] off Q„ f. 380 ore] o'er W, f. boy [ Ralph knocks down 
the Barber. W, f. 384 thee 1 Dy 388 adventurous. Q„ f. 

390 whither Q„ f. 391 cave? F, f. 

62 The Knight of the burning Pestle [act ni 

Raph. Go Squire & Dwarfe, search in this dread- 
full Caue 
395 And free the wretched prisoners from their bonds. 

£xtt Squire and LhtHxrfe, 

Barber. I craue for mercy, as thou art a Knight, 
And scomst to spill the bloud of those that beg. 
Raph. Thou showdst no mercy, nor shalt thou 
haue any, 
400 Prepare thy selfe for thou shalt surely die. 

Enter Squire leading om winking, tcith a Bason vnder 

his chin. 
Squire. Behold braue Knight heere is one prisoner. 
Whom this wilde man hath vsed as you see. 
40s Wife. This is the first wise word I heard the Squire 

Raph. Speake what thou art, and how thou hast 
bene vs'd, 
That that I may giue condigne punishment, 
4«o 1. Kni. I am a Knight that tooke my ioumey post 
North-ward from London, and in curteous wise. 
This giant train'd me to his loathsome den, 
Vnder pretence of killing of the itch, 
And all my body with a powder strew'd, 
415 That smarts and stings, and cut away my beard. 
And my curl'd lockes wherein were ribands ti'de. 
And with a water washt my tender eyes. 
Whilst vp and downe about me still he skipt. 
Whose vertue is, that till mine eyes be wip't 
4aoWith a dry cloath, for this my foule disgrace, 
I shall not dare to looke a dog i'th' face. 

398 showdst] shcwest Qs F 1711 1750 shcw'dsl W, f. 40Z Ch/ft, 
as prepared for shaving. W, f. 404 wilde] vile 1778 W vild Dy 

409 That that I ] That I Q,, f. give condigne ] give him condign Q,, f. 
punishment. F, f. 410 i Aw/.] Man Dy passim 

AC3T m] The Knight of the burning Pestle 63 

Wife. Alas poore Knight, relieue him Raph, relieue 
poore Knights whilst you Hue. 

Raph. My trusty Squire conuey him to the Towne, Exit 
Where he may finde releife, adiew faire Knight. f^nigkt. 

Enter Dtcarfe leading one toith a patch ore his Nose. 

Dwar. Puisant Knight of the burning Pestle hight, 
See here another wretch, whom this foule beast [61] 

Hath scorcht and scor d in this inhumaine wise. 

Raph. Speake me thy name and eke thy place of 

birth, 430 

And what hath bene thy vsage in this Caue. 

2. Knight. I am a Knight, Sir Pocke-hole is my name. 
And by my birth I am a Londoner 
Free by my Coppy, but my Ancestors 
Were French-men all, and riding hard this way, 435 

Vpon a trotting horse, my bones did ake, 
And I faint Knight to ease my weary limbes, 
Light at this Caue, when straight this furious fiend, 
With sharpest instrument of purest Steele, 
Did cut the gristle of my Nose away, 440 

And in the place this veluet plaister stands, 
Relieue me gentle Knight out of his hands. 

Wife. Good Raph releiue sir Pocke-hole and send him 
away, for, intruth, his breath stinkes, 

Raph, Conuey him straight after the other Knight, 443 
Sir Pocke-hole fare you well. 

2. Kni. Kinde sir good-night. /i'r'^- 

Man. Deliuer vs. Woeman. Deliuer vs. wmL. 


424 relief. 1778, f. [Exrunt Knight and TiM [Exit Man with 
Tim, -who presently re-enters Dy 428 scorcht] scotchM 1 7 50, f. 

432 2. Knight \ Sec. Man. Dy passim 438 Light] lit 1 778 W 

441 stands: 1778, f. 444 stinks. Q„ f. 445 Knight. 1778, f. 

447 [ Exit with George W, f. who presently re-enters, Dy 448 Man. ] 
Third Man. Dy passim 

64 The Knight of the burning Pestle [act m 

Wife. Hearke Oeorge, what a woeful! cry there is, 
450 1 thinke some woman lies in there. Man. Deliuer vs. 
Woeman. Deliuer vs. 

Raph. What gastly noise in this ? speake Barbaroso, 
Or by this biasing Steele thy head goes oflF. 
Barber. Prisoners of mine whom I in diet keepe, 
45S Send lower downe into the Caue, 

And in a Tub that's heated smoaking hot, 
There may they finde them and deliuer them, 
Saph. Run Squire and Dwarfe, deliuer them with^^ 
speed. s^ 

460 Wife. But will not Raph kill this Giant, surely I am ^ 
afeard if hee let him go he will do as much hurt, as 
euer he did. 

CitUz. Not so mouse neither, if hee could conuert 
[62] 465 Wife. I Oeorge if hee could conuert him, but a Giant 
is not so soone conuerted as one of vs ordinary people : 
there's a pretty tale of a Witch, that had the diuels 
marke about her, God blesse-vs, that had a Giant to 
her Sonne, that was cal'd Lob-lie-by-the-fire, didst neuer 
470 here it George ? 

Enter Squire leading a man with a glasse of Lotion in 
his hand, and the Dwarfe leading a woman, with diet- 
bread and drinke. 

Cit. Peace Nel, heere comes the prisoners. 
475 Dwar. Here be these pined wretches, manfuU Knight, 
That for these sixe weekes haue not scene a wight. 
Raph. Deliuer what you are, and how you came 
To this sad Caue, and what your vsage was? 

453 blazing Q„ f. 454 keep. 1778, f. 457 them. Q„ f. 

460 giant? 1778, f. 461 afeard] afraid F, f. 474 prisoners. 

[ Re-enter Tin leading a third man, etc. Dy 476 these ] this Q,, f. 

ACT m] The Knight of the burning Pestle 65 

Man. I am an Errant Knight that followed Armes, 
With speare and shield, and in my tender yeares 4«o 
I stricken was with Cupids fiery shaft, 
And fell in loue with this my Lady deere, 
And stole her from her friends in Tume-buU-streete, 
And bore her vp and downe from Towne to Towne, 
Where we did eate and drinke and Musicke heare, 485 
Till at the length, at this vnhappy Towne 
Wee did arriue, and comming to this Caue 
This beast vs caught and put vs in a Tub, 
Where we this two monthes sweate,and should haue done 
Another Moneth if you had not relieu'd vs. 490 

Watn, This bread and water hath our diet bene, 
Together with a rib cut from a necke 
Of burned Mutton, hard hath bene our fare. 
Release vs from this ougly Giants snare. 

Man. This hath bene all the food we haue receiu'd, 495 
But onely twice a day for nouelty. 

He gaue a spoonefull of this hearty broth, ^^ f«^ 

To each of vs, through this same slender quill. ^s^rnnge, 

Raph. From this infernall monster you shall go. 
That vseth Knights and gentle Ladies so, 500 

Conuey them hence. Exeunt 

Cit. Cony, I can tell thee the Gentlemen like Safe. ^^^ ^ 


Wife. I George^ I see it well inough. Gentlemen [53] 
I thanke you all heartily for gracing my man Bafcj 
and I promise you you shall see him oftner. 505 

Barber. Mercy great knight, I do recant my ill, 
And henceforth neuer gentle bloud will spill. 

Safe. I giue thee mercy, but yet shalt thou sweare 
Vpon my burning pestle, to performe 
Thy promise vtterd. 5" 

493 mutton; 171 1, f. fare 1 1778 W fare : Dy 501 Exeunt man 
and woman.] Third Man and Woman are led off by TiM and Grorge. 
vho presently re-enter Dy 503 enough. Qj, f. 

66 The Knighi of the burning Pestle [act in 

Barber. I sweare and kisse. 
Safe. Depart then, and amend. 
Come squire and dwarfe, the Sunne growes towards 
his set, and we haue many more aduentures yet. Exnm 
5«5 CU. Now Bafe is in this humour, I know hee would 
ha beaten all the boyes in the house if they had beene 
set on him. 

Wife. I George^ but it is well as it is, I warrant 
you the Grentlemen do consider what it is to ouer- 
5«o throw a gyant : but looke Oeorge^ heere comes mistresse 
Merri'ihoughi and her sonne Michael ; now you are 
welcome mistresse Merrithoughtj now Bafe has done 
you may go on. 

Enter mistresse Merri-thought, and Michael. 
s«5 Mist. mer. Micke my boy ? 
Mich. I forsooth mother. 

Mist. mer. Be merry Micke we are at home now; 
where I warrant you, you shall finde the house flung 
out at the windowes: Harke, hey dogges, hey, this 
S30 is thejDld worldj'faith with my husband ; if I get in 
among 'em, He play em such a lesson, that they shall 
haue little list to come scraping hither, againe. Why 
maister Merri-thought^ husband, Charles Merri-thought. 
Old merri. within. If you will sing and daunce, and 
535 laugh, and hollow, and laugh againe, and then cry 
there boyes, there: why then 
One, two, three, and foure, 
We shall be merry within this houre : 

Mist, merri. Why Charles^ doe you not know your 

Sii kiss. [Auiw the Pistle. W, f. 520 giant [Scene V— 7^ .9^^/ 
ft^/br^-MERRTTHOUGHT's/Tw*!^. W,f. ^»/^rMrs. Merrythought awf Michael 
W, f. 529 at ] of Qa, f. windows. (Singing above.) W (Music within.) 
Dy Harkl hey, dogs, hey I 1778, f. 534 Afrr. {Singing at the 

Window above,) W (appearing above, and singing.) Dy In stanzaic form : 
If . . . And hollow . . . And then . . . One . . . Wc . . . hour. 1750, f. 

ACT m] The Knighi of the burHtng Pestle 67 

owne natural! wife ? I say, open the doore, and tume 540 [54] 
me out those mangy companions ; 'tis more then time 
that they were fellow and fellow like with you: you 
are a Gentleman Charles^ and an old man, and father 
of two children ; and I my selfe (though I say it) by 
my mothers side, Neece to a worshipfull Gentleman, ms 
and a Conductor, ha has beene three times in his 
Maiesties seruice at Chester^ and is now the fourth 
time, God blesse him, and his charge vpon his ioumey. 

Old Mer. Go from my windote, hue, goe ; 
Go from my window my deere, ss© 

The winde and the raine will driue you backe againe, 
You cannot be lodged heere. 

Harke you Mistresse Merrithought, you that walke vpon 
aduentures, and forsake your husband, because hee 
sings with neuer a peny in his purse ; What shall 1 555 
thinke my selfe the worse? Faith no, Il'e be merry. 

You come not heere, heer s none but lads of mettle, 
lives of a hundred yeares, and vpwards, care neuer 
drunke their blouds, nor want made 'em warble. 

Hey-ho, my heart is heauy. 560 

AttSTmer. Why Mr. Merrithought^ what am I that you 
should laugh me to scome thus abruptly? am I not 
your fellow-feeler (as we may say) in all our miseries ? 
your comforter in health and sicknesse? haue I not 
brought you Children ? are they not like you Charles ? 565 
looke vpon thine owne Image hard-hearted man ; and 
yet for all this 

Old. mer. within. Begone, begone, my luggy, my 

546 conductor ; 1778, f. ha ] bee Qt Qs he F, f. 54^ charge, 
1778, f. 549 Af<rr. [ Sin^ng. W (sings.J Dy 555 What, 171', f. 

556 merry. [ Singing. W 557— 60 In sUnzaic form : You . . . Lives 

. . . Care . . . Hey-ho 1778 W 559 warble, 1750. f- 5^0 ' Ilcy 

. . . heavy ? ' W, f. 561 Mr. ] Matter F, f. passim 568 Jlfrr. 

(Singing.) W (sings,) Dy In stanzaic form : Begone . . . Begone my . . . 
The . . . *Twill . . . Thou , . . here. 1750, f. 


68 The Knight of the burning Pestle [act m 

puggy, begone my loue, my deere. 
570 The weather is wanne, twill do thee no harme, thou 
canst not be lodged heere. 
Be merry boyes, some light musicke, and more wine. 
Wife. He's not in earnest, I hope George^ is he ? 
at. What if he be, sweet heart? 
575 Wife. Marie if hee be George^ De make bold to 
tell him hee's an Ingrant old man, to vse his bed- 
fellow so scuruily. 

Cit. What how does he vse her hunny? 
Wife. Marie come vp sir sauce-box, I thinke youl 
[66] 580 take his part, will you not ? Lord how hot you are 
+ growne : you are a fine man an you had a fine dogge, 
it becomes you sweetly. 

Cit, Nay pre' thee Nell chide not: for as I am an 
honest man, and a true Christian Grocer, I doe not 
58s like his doings. 

Wife. I cry you mercie then George ; you know we 

are all fraile, and full of infirmities. Dee heare Mr. 

Merri'thought^ may I craue a word with you? 

Old mer. tpithin. Strike vp liuely lads. 

590 Wife. I had not thought in truth, Mr. Merrithaught, 

that a man of your age and discretion (as I may say) 

being a Gentleman, and therefore knowne by your 

gentle conditions, could haue vsed so little respect 

to the weaknesse of his wife : for your wife is your 

595 owne flesh, the staffe of your age, your yoke-fellow, 

with whose helpe you draw through the mire of this 

transitory world: Nay, she's yom- owne ribbe. And 


Old mer. I come not hither for thee to teach, 
600 I haue no pulpit for thee to preach, 

572 wind [Exit from above. W, f. 576 Ingrant] ignorant 171 1 

587 Dec] D*ye 171 1, f. 589 Mer. (At the Window.) W (appearing 

above.) Dy 599 Mer. (Singing.) W (sings.) Dy 

ACT in] The Knight of the burning Pestle 69 

I would thou hadst kist me vnder the breech, 
As thou art a Lady gay. 

Wife, Marie with a vengeance. 
I am hartely sorry for the poore gentlewoman : but if 
I were thy wife, Ffaith gray-beard, Tfaith 60s 

Cit. I pre'thee sweet hunny-suckle, be content. 

Wife. Giue me such words that am a gentlewoman 
borne, hang him hoary rascall. Get mee some drinke 
George^ I am almost molten with fretting : now beshrew 
his knaues heart for it. 610 

Old mer. Play me a light LauaUo : Come, bee 
frolocke, fill the good fellowes wine. 

Mist. mer. Why Mr. Merrithought^ are you disposed 
to make me wait here: you'l open I hope, D'e fetch 
them that shall open else. 6x5 

Old mer. Good woman if you wil sing IFe gfiue you 
something, if not 

S(mg. [66] 

You are no loue for me Margret, I am no loue for you. 
Come aloft Boyes, aloft. ««• 

Mist, mrr ^^^^>[n w fi rThn i l r-i fnrt in jnnr tntth nir* 
Come Micke^ weel not trouble him, a shall not ding 
vs i'th teeth with his bread and his broth: that he 
shall not: come boy, IVe prouide for thee, I warrant 
thee : wee'l goe to maister Venterwels the Merchant, ^s 
ire get his letter to mine Host of the Bell in Waltham^ 
there Il'e place thee with the Tapster; will not that 
doe well for thee Micke ? and let me alone for that old 
Cuckoldly knaue your father, Il'e vse him in his kinde, i 
I warrant yee. ^^ 

603 vengeance, Q, F 1711 1750 1778 W 604 heartay Q„ f. 

608 born ? 1778 W bom 1 Dy 610 it. [ Ctttten exit W, f. 612 fro- 
locke,] frolidk). 1750, f. 617 not, [Sings, Dy 620 aloft I \Exit 
from the Window. W [ Exit above, Dy 630 you 1 [ Exeunt. W, f. 

Finis Actus Tertii. 1778 W om Dy Re-enter Citizen tnth Beer, W, f. 

70 The Knight of the burning Pestle [act iv 

Wife. Come Oearge^ wher's the beere? 

Cit. Here loue. 

Wife. This old fornicating fellow wil not out of my 
mind yet; Gentlemen, Il'e begin to you all, and I de- 
635 sire more of your acquaintance, with all my heart. 
Fill the Gentlemen some beere George. 

Finis Actus tertij. j/j^ 

Actus quartus, Scoena prima. 
Boy daunceth. 

Wife. Looke George^ the little boy's come againe, 
mee thinkes he lookes something like the prince of 
Orange in his long stocking, if hee had a little har- 
nesse about his necke. George I will haue him dance 
5 Fading ; Fading is a fine ligge Il'e assure you Gent- 
lemen : begin brother, now a capers sweet heart, now 
a tume a'th toe, and then tumble : cannot you tumble 
youth ? 

Boy. No indeed forsooth. 
«o Wife. Nor eate fire? Boy. Neither. 

Wife. Why then I thanke you heartily, there s two 
pence to buy you points withall. 

Enter lasper and Boy. 
lasp. There boy, deliuer this : but do it well. Hast 
15 thou prouided me foure lusty fellowes ? 
[57] Able to carry me ? and art thou perfect 

In all thy businesse ? Boy. Sir, you need not feare, 
I haue my lesson here, and cannot misse it: 
The men are ready for you, and what else 

635 heart. (Drinks.) Dy 636 Gforge. (Bay danceth.) W (Enter Boy.) 
Dy 6 brother. (Boy dances.) Dy 12 withall. (Act IV. 1778, f. 

Scene \.^A Street. W, f. 15 fellows, [Gives a Utter. Dy 

ACT I?] The Knight of the burning Pestle ^ i 

Pertaines to this imployment. J<wp. There my boy, •• 
Take it, but buy no land. Boy. Faith sir 'twere rare '^ 
To see so yong a purchaser: I flye, 
And on my wings carry your destinie. Exit. 

lasp. Go, and be happy. Now my latest hope 
Forsake me not, but fling thy Anchor out, as 

And let it hold: stand fixt thou rolling stone, ^ - 7^'" ' 
Till I enioy my deerest: heare me all o ^. ., 

You powers that rule in men coelestiall. Exit. 

Wife. Go thy wayes, thou art as crooked a sprigge 
as euer grew in London ; I warrant him hee'l come to 30 
some naughty end or other: for his lookes say no 
lesse: Besides, his father (you know George) is none 
of the best, you heard him take me vp like a flirt r i.J\ 
Gill, and sing baudy songs vpon me : but Ifaith if ^ 

iTiue George 35 

at Let me alone sweet-heart, I haue a tricke in 
my head shall lodge him in the Arches for one yeare, 
and make him sing Peccant^ er'e I leaue him, and yet 
hee shall neuer know who hurt him neither. 

Wife. Do my good George^ do. 40 

Cit. What shall we haue Rafe do now boy? 

Boy. You shall haue what you will sir. 

CU. Why so sir, go and fetch me him then, and 
let the Sophy of Persia come and christen him a childe. 

Boy. Beleeue me sir, that will not doe so well, 'tis 45 
stale, it has beene had before at the red Bull. 

Wife. George let Safe trauell ouer great hils, & 
let him be very weary, and come to the King of 
Cracouia's house, couered with veluet, and there let 
the Kings daughter stand in her window all in beaten 50 
gold, combing her golden locks with a combe of 

20 employment 1778, f. 21 land [ Gives money. Dy 28 celest- 

ial. Q,, f. 33 mrt Gill] Gill-flirt Q, F 1711 x75o »778 49 with 

veluet J with black velvet 1778, f. 


72 The Knight of the burning Pestle [act it 

luory, and let her spy Bafe^ and fall in loue with him, 
and come downe to him, and carry him into her fathers 
house, and then let Bafe talke with her. 
ss Cit. Well said Nell^ it shal be so: boy let's ha't 
done quickly. 

Bay. Sir, if you will imagine all this to be done 
already, you shall heare them talke together : but wee 
cannot present a house couered with blacke veluet, 
60 and a Lady in beaten gold. 

OU, Sir boy, lets ha*t as you can then. 

Boy. Besides it will shew ill-fauouredly to haue a 
Grocers prentice to court a kings daughter. 

OU. Will it so sir? you are well read in Histories ; 
65 1 pray you what was sir Dctgonet ? was not he pren- 
tice to a Grocer in London? read the play of the 
Foure Prentices of London, where they tosse their pikes 
so: I pray you fetch him in sir, fetch him in. 

Boy. It shall be done, it is not our fault gentlemen. £xtt 
70 Wife. Now we shall see fine doings I warrant tee 
Q^orge. O here they come; how pretily the king of 
Cracuioa'e daughter is drest. 

Enter Bafe and the Lady, Squire and dwarf e. 
Oit. I Nell^ it is* the fashion of that country, I war- 
75 rant tee. 

Lady, Welcome sir Knight vnto my fathers Court. 
King of Moldauia, vnto me Pompiona 
His daughter deere: but sure you do not Uke 
Your entertainment, that will stay with vs 
^80 No longer but a night. Bafe. Damsell right faire, 
I am on many sad aduentures bound, 

69 done. 1778, f. 70 tec ] thee Qg F 171 1 1750 1778 W ye 

Dy, f. 71 George. [ Scenb H.— -4 hall in the King of Moldavia's court. 
W, f. 72 Cracovia's Q,, f. 73 Lady\ Pompiona 1778, f. 

76 Court, 171 1, f. 77 Moldavia; 1778, f. 

ACT iv] The Knight of the burning Pestle 73 

That call me forth into the wildemesse : 

Besides, my horses backe is something gaFd, 

Which will inforce me ride a sober pace. 

But many thankes (faire Lady) be to you, 85 

For vsing errant Knight with curtesie. 

Lady. But say (braue knight) what is your name 
& birth? 

Rafe. My name is Rafe^ I am an English man, 
As true as Steele, a hearty Englishman, 90 -^ 

And prentice to a Grocer in the strond. 
By deed Indent, of which I haue one part : 
But Fortune calling me to follow Armes, 
On me this holy order I did take, 
Of Burning pestle, which in all mens eyes, 95 

I beare, confounding Ladies enemies. [59] 

Lddy. Oft haue I heard of your braue country-men. 
And fertill soyle, and store of holesome food : 
My father oft will tell me of a drinke 
In England found, and NipUato caFd. *«> 

Which driueth all the sorrow from your hearts. 

Rafe. Lady 'tis true, you need not lay your lips 
To better Nipitato then there is. 

Lady. And of a wild-fowle he will often speake. 
Which poudred beefe and mustard called is : "s 

For there haue beene great warres 'twixt vs and you. 
But truly Rafe^ it was not long of me. 
Tell me then Rafe^ could you contented be. 
To weare a Ladies fauour in your shield? 

Rafe. I am a knight of religious order, "<» 

And will not weare a fauour of a Ladies 
That trusts in Antichrist, and false traditions. 

Cit. Well sayd Rafe^ conuert her if thou canst. 

84 enforce Q,, f. 91 strond,] Strand Q, Q, F 171 1 1750 1778 Dy 
98 wholesome Qs f. 105 powdered 171 1, f- ^07 'long Dy 

no of religious] of a religious 1750, f. iii Ladies] Lady 1750, f. 

74 The Knight of the burning Pestle [act iv 

Rafe. Besides, I haue a Lady of my owne 
\^5 In merry England, for whose vertuous sake 
I tooke these Armes, and Stisan is her name, 
A Coblers maid in Milke-street, whom I vow 
Nere to forsake, whilst life and Pestle last. 

La(2y. Happy that Cobling dame, who ere she be, 
«ao That for her owne (deere Rafe) hath gotten thee. 
Vnhappy I, that nere shall see the day 
To see thee more, that bearst my heart away. 
Rafe, Lady fare-well, I needs must take my leaue. 
Lady. Hard-harted Rafe^ that Ladies dost deceiue. 
"5 at. Harke the Rafe^ there's money for thee ; giue 
something in the King of Cracouia's house, be not be- 
holding to him. 

Rafe. Lady before I go, I must remember 
Your fathers Officers, who truth to tell, 
«3*Haue beene about me very diligent. 

Hold vp thy snowy hand thou princely maid. 
There's twelue pence for your fathers Chamberlaine, 
[60] And another shilling for his Cooke, 

For by my troth the Goose was rosted well. 
135 And twelue-pence for your fathers horse-keeper. 
For nointing my horse backe; and for his butter 
There is another shilling. To the maid 
That wash't my boot-hose, there's an English groat; 
And two pence to the boy that wip't my boots: 
X40 And last, faire Lady, there is for your selfe 
Three pence to buy you pins at Bumbo faire. 

Lady. Full many thankes, and I will keepe them safe 
Till all the heads be off, for thy sake Rafe. 
Rafe. Aduance my Squire and Dwarfe, I cannot 
M5 stay. 

Lady. Thou kilst my heart in parting thus away. Exei 

125 thcc [ gives money] Dy 1 33 And another] And there's anotheri 750, f. 
134 roasted i7ii,f. well;i778,f. 136 'nointing 1 7 50, f. horse-back 17 78,! 


ACT iv) The Knight of the burning Pestle 75 

Wife. I commend Baff yet that hee will not stoope 
to a Cracauian^ there's properer women in London 
then any are there I-wis. But heere comes Maister 
Humphrey and his loue againe now George. = 

Cit. I cony, peace. 

Enter Marchant, Humphrey , Luce and a Boy. 

March. Go get you vp, I will not be intreated. 
And gossip mine, Il'e keepe you sure hereafter 
From gadding out againe with boyes and vnthrifts, iss 
Come, they are womens teares, I know your fashion. 
Go sirrah, locke her in, and keepe the key. -^'^ ^^^ 

Safe as you loue your life. Now my sonne Humfrey^ ^' 
You may both rest assured of my loue 
In this, and reape your owne desire. «6o 

Hum. I see this loue you speake of, through your 
Although the hole be little; and hereafter 
Will yeeld the like in all I may, or can, 
Fitting a Christian, and a gentleman. «65 

March. I do beleeue you (my good sonne) and 
thanke you : 
For 'twere an impudence to thinke you flattered. 

Humph, It were indeed, but shall I tell you why, 
I haue beene beaten twice about the lye. «7o 

March. Well son, no more of complement, my 
Is yours againe; appoint the time, and take her, 
We'le haue no stealing for it, I my selfe [61] 

And some few of our friends will see you married. 175 

1 47 Ra/e ycl that ] Rafe, yet that F Ralph yet, that 1 7 1 1 , f. 1 49 »-wii. 
[ Scene IW.—A Room in the house of Venturewell Dy 151 peace I 
[Scene WV-^The House of Vcnterwels. W 153 entreated. 1778, f. 

155 unthrifts: 1778, f. 157 key 1711, f. 158 Safe, 1778. 

169 why? 1778, f. 171 compliment. 1778, f. 

76 The Knight of the burning Pestle [aotiv 

Hum. I would you would i'faith, for be it knowne 
I euer was afraid to lie alone. 

March. Some three dales hence then. 

Hum, Three dales, let me see, 
«»o 'Tis some-what of the most, yet I agree, 
Because I meane against the appointed day. 
To visite all my friends in new array. ^^ 

Ser. Sir there's a Gentlewoman without would 
speake with your Worship. March. What is shee? 
««5 Seru. Sir I askt her not. 

Merch. Bid her come in. 

Enter mistresse Merry-thought and Michael. 

Mist. mer. Peace be to your Worship, I come as 
a poore 
«9o Suter to you sir, in the behalfe of this child. 
Merch. Are you not wife to Merrie-thaught? 
Mist. mer. Yes truely, would I had nere seene his 
eies, ha has vndone me and himselfe and his children, 
8l there he liues at home & sings, 8l hoights, & 
'95 Reuels among his drunken companions, but, I warrant 
you, where to get a peny to put bread in his mouth, 
he knowes not : and therefore if it like your Worship, 
I would entreate your letter, to the honest Host of 
the Bel in Waltham^ that I may place my child vnder 
»«> the protection of his Tapster, in some setled course 
of life. 
Merch. Fme glad the heauens haue heard my pray- 
ers: thy husband 
When I was ripe in sorrows laught at me, 
~5 Thy Sonne like an vnthankefuU wretch, I hauing 
Redeem'd him from his fall and made him mine, 

179 days ? 1778 W days ! Dy 186 in. [ JEw'/Servant Dy 193 ha ] 
he Q,, f. 


ACT I?} The Knight of the burning Pestle 77 

To shew his loue againe, first stole my daughter, 
Then wrong'd this Gentleman, and last of all, 
Gaue me that griefe, had almost brought me downe 
Vnto my graue, had not a stronger hand aio 

Releiu'd my sorrowes, go, and weepe, as I did 
And be vnpittied, for I heere professe 
An euerlasting hate to all thy name. 

Mist. mer. Wil you so sir. how say you by that? 
come Micke, let him keepe his winde to coole his axs [62] 
Porrage, wele go to thy Nurces Mickej shee knits 
silke stockings boy, and wele knit too boy, and bee 
beholding to none of them all. Exeunt 


Enter a boy mth a letter. mother. 

Boy. Sir, I take it you are the Maister of this house. *^o 

Merck. How then boy? 

Boy. Then to your selfe sir comes this letter. 

Merch. From whom my pretty Boy? 

Boy. From him that was your seruant, but no more 
Shall that name euer bee, for hee is dead, "s 

Griefe of your purchased anger broke his heart, 
I saw him die, and from his hand receiu'd 
This paper, with a charge to bring it hither, 
Reade it, and satisfie your selfe in all. 

Letter. «3o 

March. Sir, that I haue wronged your loue, I must 
confesse, in which I haue purchast to my selfe, besides 
myne oume vndoing, the ill opinion of my friends, let not 
your anger, good sir, outliue me, but suffer mee to rest 
in peace with your forgiuenesse, let my body (if a dying 335 

211 Sorrows: 1778 W sorrows. Dy 216 Porrage] Pottage Q,, f. 
222 letter. [Gives letter. Dy 225 dead I 1778 W dead: Dy 

226 Heart; 171 1 1750 heart: 1778 W heart. Dy 228 hither: 

1778, f. 231 Aferch. (reading.) 1778, f. 233 friends. Q„ f. 

235 forgiveness: 1778, f. 

78 The Knight of the burning Pestle [act iv 

man may bo much preuaUe tcith ytm) bee brtmght to your 
daughter^ that shee may truely know my hote flames are 
now buried, cmd, idthall, receiue a testimony of the zeale 
1 bore her vertue : farewell for euer, and be euer happy. 

•40 lasper. 

Gods hand is great in this, I do forgiue him, 
Yet I am glad he's quiet, where I hope 
He will not bite againe: boy bring the body 
And let him haue his will, if that be all. 

•45 Boy. 'Tis here without sir. Merch. So sir, if you 
You may conduct it in, I do not feare it. [please 
Hump, rie be your Vsher boy, for though I say it, 
He owd me something once, and well did pay it. ^wwn 

Enter Luce alone. 
»5o Luce. If there be any punishment inflicted 

Vpon the miserable, more then yet I feele. 

Let it together ceaze me, and at once 
[63] Presse downe my soule, I cannot beare the paine 

Of these delaying tortures : thou that art 
ass The end of all, and the sweete rest of all ; 

Come, come o death, bring me to thy peace. 

And blot out all the memory I nourish 

Both of my father and my cruell friend. 

O wretched maide still lining to be wretched, 
260 To be a say to fortune in her changes. 

And grow to number times and woes together. 

How happy had I bene, if being borne 

My graue had bene my cradle? ^^ 

Ser. By your leaue 
a6s Yong Mistresse, here's a boy hath brought a coffin, 

237 hotc ] hot Q,, f. 241 this I 1778 W this : Dy 248 Exeunt. 
[SC£NE W.— Another Room in the same House. W, f. 252 scire Q,, f. 
255 all, 1711, f. 256 bring] and bring 1750 263 cradle! 1778, f. 
265 coffin : r>y 


ACT iv]^ The Knight of the burning Pestle 79 

What a would say Jy know, not, but your father 
Charg'd me to giue you notice, here they come. 

Enter two hearing a Coffin^ lasper in it. 

Luce, For me I hop't 'tis come, and 'tis most welcome. 

Boy, Faire Mistresse let me not adde greater griefe 270 
To that great store you haue already; lasper 
That whilst he liu'd was yours, now dead, 
And here enclosed, commanded me to bring 
His body hither, and to craue a teare 
From those faire eyes, though he deseru'd not pitty, »75 
To decke his funerall, for so he bid me 
Tell her for whom he di'de. Luce. He shall haue 
Good friends depart a little, whilst I take [many : Exeunt 
My leaue of this dead man, that once I lou'd : fa{^ 

Hold, yet a little, life and then I giue thee <^ *<>r. 

To thy first heauenly being; O my friend! 
Hast thou deceiu'd me thus, and got before me? 
I shall not long bee after, but beleeue me. 
Thou wert too cruell lasper gainst thy selfe. 
In punishing the fault, I could haue pardoned, «*5 

With so vntimely death; thou didst not wrong me, 
But euer wer't most kind, most true, most louing; 
And I the most vnkind, most false, most cruell. 
Didst thou but aske a teare? Il'e giue thee all, [64] 

Euen all my eies can powre downe, all my sigh's »9o 
And all my selfe, before thou goest from me 
There are but sparing rites : But if thy soule 
Be yet about this place, and can behold 
And see what I prepare to decke thee with. 
It shall go vp, borne on the wings of peace «95 

267 notice. 1778, f. 268 Enter two Men bearing a Coffin^ and 

the Boy. W, f. Jasper laid out as a corpse within it^ covered with 
a Cloth, W 269 bop't] hope Q,, t 280 life! 1778, f. 

290 lighs 171 1, f. 291 me : 1778, f. 292 There] These 1711, f. 

8o The Knight of the burning Pestle [activ 

And satisfied : first will I sing thy dirge, 

Then kisse thy pale lips, and then die my selfe. 

And fill one Coffin and one graue together. 

300 Come you whose loues are dead, 

And whiles I sing 
Weep and taring 
Euery hand and euery head, 
Bind with Cipres and sad Ewe, 
305 Ribands hlacke, and candles blew. 

For him that was of men most true. 

Come with heauy mourning, 

And on his graue 

Let him haue 
310 Sacrifice of sighes and groaning, 

Let him haue faire flowers enow. 
White and purple, greeyve and yellow^ 
For him that was of men most true. 

Thou sable cloth, sad couer of my ioies 
315 1 lift thee vp, and thus I meete with death. 

lasp. And thus you meete the liuing. Luce, Saue 

me heauen. 
las. Nay do not flie me faire, I am no spirit, 
Looke better on me, do you know me yet? 
3a« Luce, O thou deere shadow of my friend. 
lasp. Deere substance, 
I sweare I am no shadow, feele my hand. 
It is the same it was, I am your lasper^ 
Your lasper that's yet liuing, and yet louing, 
3*5 Pardon my rash attempt, my foolish proofe 

303 hand, 1711, f. head 1750, f. 304 Ewe,] ewe; 1750 yew; 

177^1 ^* 305 Ribands] Ribbons 1778 W 307 mourning] moaning 
1750, f- 315 death. [ Sh^ takes off the Cloth, and he rises out of the 

Coffin, W, f. 322 shadow ; 171 1, f. 324 loving ! 1778 W loving. Dy 

jlCT iy] Tke Kmght cfihe harmmg Pesde 8i 

I put in practise of your constancy, [65] 

For sooner should my sword haue drunke my blood. 
And set my soule at liberty, then drawne 
The least drop from that body ; for which boldnease 
Doome me to any thing : if death I take it s3» 

And willingly. Luce. This death Fie gine yon for it. 
So, now I am satisfied: yon are no spirit, 
But my owne truest, truest, truest friend. 
Why doe you come thus to mee. 

lasper. First to see you, sjs 

Then to conuey you hence. 

Luce. It cannot bee, 
For I am lockt vp here and watcht at all howers, 
That 'tis impossible for me to scape. 

Ia$p. Nothing more possible, within this co£Sn y¥> 
Do you conuey your selfe, let me alone, 
I haue the wits of twenty men about me, 
Onely I craue the shelter of your Closet 
A little, and then feare me not; creepe in 
That they may presently conuey you hence: ms 

Feare nothing deerest loue, Il'e be your second. 
Lie close, so, all goes well yet; Boy. 

Boy. At hand sir. 

lasp. Convey away the Coffin, and be wary. 

Boy. Tis done already. 3so 

lasp. Now must I go coniure. £jai. 

Enter Merchant. 
Merck. Boy, Boy. 
Boy. Your seruant sir. 

331 it! [ITisses htm. W, f. 333 friend 1 1778 W friend; Dy 

334 me ? Q„ f. 338 boors Q,, t 340 pofsible : 1 778 W poirible. Dy 
341 self ; 1750 1778 W lelf : Dy 347 Boy I [ She goes into tht Coffin, 
and he covers her with the Cloth. W, £ 349 wary. [ The Men carry out 
the Coffin. W, f. 351 conjure. [£«'/ into a Closet. W, t 


82 The Knight of the burning Pestle [act nr 

355 Merck. Do me this kindnesse Boy, hold here's a 
crowne: Before thou bury the body of this fellow, 
carry it to his old merie father, and salute him from 
mee, and bid him feing, he hath cause. 
jBoy. I will sir. 
3«o Merck. And then bringe me word what tune he is in, 
and have another Crowne: but do it it truely. 
I hatie fitted him a bargaine, now, will vex him. 
[66] jBoy. God blesse your Worships health sir. 

March. Fare-well boy. Exi 

365 Enter Maister Merrie-thought. 

Wife. Ah old Merry-thtrnght, art thou there againe, 
let's here some of thy songs. 

Old Mer. Who can sing a merrier noate, 
Then he that cannot change a groat? 
370 Not a Denier left, and yet my heart leapes, I do 
wonder yet, as old as I am, that any man will follow 
a Trade, or seme, that may sing and laugh, and walke 
the streetes, my wife and both my sonnes are I know 
not where, I haue nothing left, nor know I how to 
375 come by meate to supper, yet am I merry still ; for 
I know I shall finde it vpon the Table at sixe a clocke, 
therefore hang Thought. 

I would not be a seruingman to carry the cloke-bag still, 
Nor would I be a Fawleconer the greedy Hawlkes to fill. 
380 But I would be in a good house, & haue a good 

Maister too. 
But I would eat & drink of the best, & no work 
would I do. 

358 sing ; 1778, f. 364 Exeunt, SciNE V. W, f. Exeunt severally, 
Dy A Room in Merrythought's House. W Street before Merrytought*s 
house, Dy 368 Mer, (Singing) W {sings) Dy 370 leaps: 1778, f. 
373 streets. 1778, f. 376 o'clock; 1778, f. 377 thought! [Sing- 

ing, W Sings. Dy 379 falconer 1778, f. hawks Q„ f. 

ACT iy] The Knighi of the hmm^ Pesile 83 

This is it that keepes life and sonle together, ndrtfa. 
this is the Philosophers stone that they write so mndi #5 
on, that keepes a man eaer yong. 

Enter a Bag. 
Bay. Sir, they say they know all your mony is gone, 
and they will trust you for no more drinke. 

Old mer. Will they not? let am choose, die best 9^ 
is I haue mirth at home, and neede not send ohrosid 
for that, let them keepe their drinke to 
For lillian of Berry shee dwels on a UilL 
And shee hath good Beere and Ale to sdL 
And of good fellowes she thinks no ill. 
And thether will we go now, now, now, now, j 
Will wee go now. 

And when you haue made a little stay. 
You need not aske what is to pay. 
But kisse your Hostesse and go yoor ws^. And «». 

thither. Sue 

Enter another Bag. 

2. Bay. Sir, I can get no bread for tapper. 

Old mer. Hang bread and sapper, let's presenK oor rr 
mirth, and we shall neuer feele hanger. Tie wmaaax ^, 
you, lefs haue a Catch, boy follow me, cone cio^ 
this Catch. 

BLoy ho, no body at home, meate, nor drinke, Mr mirn^ 
ha wee none, fill the pot Eedy, neuer mare wte4> L 

Old mer. So boies enough, follow mee, let's cfaao^e ^ 
our place and we shall langh afresh. a^uw^ 

390 am 3 *eni Qsi t chooie I 1778 W cfaootc Df y^ OuA : % 1 
396 thither Q,, C 406 yoo. 177S, t catdi : bey 177* ^' <*i<*i. «^il^ 
Dy, f. come. [ They smg. Dj nf fkk Catdb. om, Df ^/J U0^ 

[ TPtey sing the folkmmg catch. W 40S— 09 la ftoasMc luem : H(^ , , , 
Meat ... Fill .. . Neirer . . . L 1750, t 409 •»« * »77* ^ *w«. tr 


84 The Knight of the burning Pestle [activ 

Wife. Let him goe George^ a shall not haue any 
countenance from vs, nor a good word from any i'th' 
Company, if I may strike stroke in't. 
4«5 at. No more a shannot loue ; but Nel I will haue 
Raph doe a very notable matter now, to the etemall 
honour and glory of all Grocers^ sirrah you there boy. 
can none of you heare? 
Boy. Sir, your pleasure. 
4«o OU. Let Raph come out on May-day in the morning 
and speake vpon a Conduit with all his Scarfes about 
him, and his fethers and his rings and his knacks. 

Boy. Why sir you do not thinke of our plot, what 
will become of that then? 
w Cit. Why sir, I care not what become on*t. Fie haue 
him come out, or Fie fetch him out my selfe. Fie haue 
something done in honor of the Citty, besides, he 
hath bene long enough vpon Aduentures, bring him 

out quickely, or if I come in amongst you 

430 Boy. Well sir hee shall come out, but if our play 
miscarry, sir you are like to pay for't. ^^' 

OU. Bring him away then. 

Wife. This will be brauei'faith, George shall not he 

dance the morrice too for the credit of the Strand. 

435 CitHz. No sweete heart it will bee too much for 

the boy, o there he is Nel, hee's reasonable well in 

reparell, but hee has not rings enough. ^^^ 

Raph. London, to thee I do present the merry Month 

of May 

[68] 440 Let each true Subiect be content to heare me what I say : 

For from the top of Conduit head, as plainely may appeare, 

I will both tell my name to you and wherefore I came heere. 

415 sha*not W, f. 417 grocers. 1778, f. 418 hear? [£nt^ Boy. 
Dy 419 pleasure? 1778, f. 427 city. 1778 W city : Dy 428 ad- 
ventures. Dy 433 i'faith I 1778, f. 434 Strand ? 1 7 1 1, f. 436 boy. 
[ Enter Ralph, dressed as a May-lord, E>y Same W after 437 439 May ; 
1778. f. 

ACT iv] The Knight of the burning Pestle 85 

My name is Raph, by due discent, though not ignoble I, 
Yet far inferior to the Flocke of gratious Grocery. 
And by the Common-councell, ofmyfellowes in the Strand j 445 
With guilded Staffe, and crossed Skarfe, the May-lord 

here I stand. 
Reioyce, English hearts, reioyce, reioyce Louers deere, 
Beioyce Citty, Towne, and Country, reioyce eke euery Shire ; 
For now the fragrant Flowers do spring and sprout in 4so 

seemely sort, 
The little Birds do sit and sing, the Lambes do make fine 

And now the Burchin Tree doth bud thai maks the Schoole 

boy cry ass 

TheMorrice rings while Hobby-horse doth foots itfeateously : 
The Lords and Ladies now abroad for their disport and play. 
Do kisse sometimes vpon the Orctsse, and sometimes in 

the Hey. 
Now Butter with a leafe of Sage is good to Purge the bloud, 460 
Fly Venus and Phlebotomy for they are neither good. 
Now little fish on tender stone, beginne to cast their bellies. 
And sluggish snails, that erst were mute, do creep out of 

their shelles 
The rumbling Biuers now do warmefor little boies topadle, 46s 
The sturdy Steede, now goes to grasse, and vp they hang 

his saddle. 
The heauy Hart, the bellowing Bucke, the Rascal and the 

Are now among the Yeomans Pease, and leaue the feare- 470 

full thicket. 
And be like them, you, I say, of this same noble Towne, 
And lift aloft your veluet heads, and slipping of your gowne : 

444 Flocke] Stock Dy gracious Q,, f. 455 cry, Q, F 1711 1750 
1778 W cry; Dy 459 hay F, f. 463 mute] mew'd 1750, f. 

464 shcUiet. 171 1 1750 1778 W shcllics ; Dy 466 steed 171 1, f. 

468 bellowing] blowing Q, Q, F 171 1 1750 1778 473 oflf W, f. 

gown, 1750, f. 

86 The Knight of the burning Pestle [act iv 

Wiih heU (m legs, and napkins cleane vnto your shoulders 
475 tide, 

With Scarfes & Qariers as you please, d Hey for our 

Toum cri'd 
March out and shew your willing minds by twenty and 
by twenty, 
480 ToHogsdon or to Newington, where Ale and Cakes are plenty : 
And let it nere be said for shame, that we the youths of 

Lay thrumming of our Caps at home, and left our custome 
4Ss Vp then, I say, both yong and old, both man and maide 

a Maying 
With Drums and Ouns that bounce alowd, dk mery Taber 

Which to prolong, God saue our King, and send his 
490 Country peace 

And roots out Treason from the Land, and so, my friends 
I cease. 

Finis Act 4. 

[69] Actus 5. Scoena prima. 

Enter Marchant, solus. 

March. I will haue no great store of company at 

the wedding, a cupple of neighbours and their wiues, 

and weewill haue a Capon in stewed broth, with marrow, 

and a good peece of beefe, stucke with rose-mary. 

s Enter lasper, his face mealed. 

lasp. Forbeare thy paines fond man, it is too late. 
March. Heauen blesse me: lasper? 

476-77 •hey... town r W,f. cri'd : Q,Q,F 171 1 1750 crie<ii778\V 
cried, Dy 486 Maying, 171 1, f. 491 land I 1778, f. Act V. 

SciNB L A Room in the House of Venterwels, Enter Ventdlwils W, f. 

▲cty] TheKmigti^ikttmnagPkak 

lasp. I, I am his Gliost 
Whom thou hast imiir'd for his 
Fond worldly wretch, who dost not 
In death that tme hearts cannoc ported be. 
First know thy daughter is qoile bone anr. 
On wings of Angels. Aroi^ die liqpid 
To farre oat of diy reach* and 
Shalt thou behold her £mx: Bat diee and I m 

Will in another world emor ovv kxiesL 
Where neither faidiers ai]^ner« pooeitie. 
Nor any crosse diat troubles eartfahr men 
Shall make vs seuer our Tniled hearts. 
And neuer shalt thoa sit« or be akme » 

In any place, but I will visit thee 
With gastly lookes, and pot into thy made 
The great offences wich thoa didst to me. 
When thou art at thy Table widi diy friends 
Merry in heart, and fild widi swelling wine. ^ 

n^e come in midst of all diy pnde and mirths 
Inuisible to all men but thy selfe, 
And whisper such a sad tale in thine eare. 
Shall make thee let die Cai^>e £all from thy hand, 
And stand as mute and pale as Death it selfe. 9^ 

March. Forgiue me Iaq>er ; Oh! whatmig^Idoe? 
Tell me, to satisfie thy trobled Ghost? 70^ 

I(up. There is no meanes, too late thou tfainkst of this. 

March. But tell me what were best for me to doe? 

lasp. Repent thy deede, and satisfie my fadier, h 
And beat fond Humphrey out of thy dores, j^^ 

Enter Humphrey. 
Wife. Looke George, his very Ghost would haue 
folkes beaten* 

8 I, I] Ay. I 1711, t 14 TooQ, Q, F 171 1 1778 W 23 wtoch 

88 The Knight of the burning Pestle [act v 

40 Humph. Father, my bride is gone, faire mistresse Lticej 
My soule's the fount of vengeance, mischiefes sluce. 
March. Hence foole out of my sight, with thj'^ fond 
Thou hast vndone me. 
45 Humph. Hold my father deere. 
For Luce thy daughters sake, that had no peere. 
Mar. Thy father foole? there's some blows more, 
^ begone. 

lasper, I hope thy Ghost bee well appeased, 
io To see thy will performed, now will I go 
To satisjSe thy father for thy wrongs. Exit. 

Humph. What shall I doe? I haue beene beaten 
And mistresse Luce is gone? helpe me deuice: 
55 Since my true-loue is gone, I neuermore. 
Whilst I do Hue, vpon the sky will pore; 
But in the darke will weare out my shooe-soles 
In passion, in Saint Faiths Church vnder Paules. ^^f- 
Wife. George call Bafe hither, if you loue me call 
toBafe hither, I haue the brauest thing for him to do 
George; pre'thee call him quickly. 
at. Bafe, why Bafe boy. g^ 

Bafe. Heere sir. 

Cit. Come hither Bafe, come to thy mistresse boy. 

65 Wife. Bafe I would haue thee call all the youthes 

together in battle-ray, with drums, and guns, and flags, 

and march to Mile end in pompous fashion, and there 

^- exhort your Souldiers to be merry and wise, and to 

keepe their beards from burning Bafe, and then skir- 

70 mish, and let your flagges flye, and cry kill, kill, kill : \ 

43 passion. Q, passion, Q, F 171 1 1750 passion 1 1778, f. 44 mc. 
[BMts him, W, f. 45 Hold, 1778, f. 48 begone. [Beats him, 

171 1, f. 50 performed. 1778, f. 51 Exit,\ Aside and exit. Dy 

54 gone! W gone. Dy 69 burning, 171 1, f. 70 'kill, kill, kill I' 

1778, f. 

ACT v] The Knight of the burning Pestle 89 

my husband shall lend you his lerkin Rafe, and there's 
a scarfe; for the rest, the house shall furnish you, 
and wee'l pay for't : doe it brauely Rafe^ and thinke [71] 
before whom you performe, and what person you rep- 
resent. 75 

Rafe. I warrant you mistresse if I do it not for the 
honour of the Citty, and the credit of my maister, let 
me neuer hope for freedome. 

Wife. 'Tis well spoken Ifaith ; go thy wayes, thou 
art a sparke indeed. 80 

at. Rafe, Rafe, double your iSles brauely Rafe. 

Rafe. I warrant you sir. Exit Raft, 

Cit. Let him looke narrowly to his seruice, I shall 
take him else, I was there my selfe a pike-man once 
in the hottest of the day, wench ; had my feather shot ss 
sheere away, the fringe of my pike burnt oflF with 
powder, my pate broken with a scouring-sticke, and 
yet I thanke God I am heere. ^^?^ 

•^ within. 

Wife. Harke George the drums. 

Cit. Ran, tan, tan, tan ; ran, tan : O wench an thou 90 
hadst but seene little Ned of Algate, drum Ned, how 
hee made it rore againe, and layd on like a tyrant: 
and then stroke softly till the ward came vp, and then 
thundred againe, and together we go : sa, sa, sa, bounce 
quoth the guns ; courage my hearts, quothr the Cap- 95 
taines : Saint George, quoth the pikemen ; and withall 
here they lay, and there they lay: And yet for all 
this I am heere wench. 

Wife. Be thankfuU for it George, for indeed 'tis 
wonderfull. ««> 

83 service; 1778, f. 84 ehe. 1778, f. 88 yet, 1778, f. God. 

1778. f. Drum] Drums 1778, f. 93 stroke] struck F, f. 

94 bounce I Dy 100 wonderful. [ SCENi IL W, f. Mile-End. W 

A street (and afterwards Mile-End,) Dy Enter Ralph, Wiluam 
Hambrton, Gboboc Grbbngoosb, and Others of his Company, with 
Drums and Colours, W, f. 

90 The Knight of the burning Pestle [act t 

EnUr Rafe and his ctmpany with Drutnmes and colours. 
Ba/e. Marcb faire my hearts, Lieutenant beate the 
reare vp: Ancient, let your colours flye; but haue a 
great care of the Butchers hookes at white-Chappell, 
«05 they haue beene the death of many a faire Ancient 
Open your files that I may take a view both of your 
persons and munition: Sergeant call a muster. 
^ M SA'X) Serg. A stand, William Hamerton peuterer. 

Ham. Here captaine. 
»o Bqfe. A Corselet, and a Spanish pike; 'tis well, 
can you shake it with a terror? 
[72] Ram. I hope so Captaine. 

Bqfe. Charge vpon me, 'tis with the weakest : put 
more strength William Hammerton, more strength: as 
«5you were againe. Proceed Sergeant. 
Serge. George Oreene-goose, Poulterer? 
Oreene. Heere. 

Bafe. Let me see your peece neighbour Greene- 
goosey when was the shot in? 
I90 Greene. And like you maister Captaine, I made a 
shot euen now, partly to scoure her, and partly for 

Bafe. It should seeme so certainely, for her breath 

is yet inflamed : besides, there is a maine fault in the 

S35 touch-hole, it runnes, and stinketh ; and I tell you 

moreouer, and beleeue it : Ten such touch-holes would 

breed the pox in the Army. Get you a feather, 

neighbour, get you a feather, sweet oyle, and paper, 

and your peece may do well enough yet. Were's 

«3oyour powder? 

Greene. Heere. 

I02 The whole of this military scene in blank verse. 1778 fair, 1778, t 

hearte 1 F, f. 104 white-Chappell ] Whitechapel Q,, f. 108 stand i 

1778, f. 113 me. 1750, f. me. {He charges on Balph,) Dj 120 And ] 
An't 1778, f. 

ACT t] The Knight of the burning Pestle 91 

Rafe. What in a paper? As I am a Souldier, and 
a Gentleman, it cranes a Mardall Court: you ought 
to dye for't Where's your home ? answere me to that 
Oreene. An't like you sir, I was obliuious. >35 

Bafe. It likes me not you should bee so ; 'tis a shame 
for you, and a scandall to all our neighbours, beeing 
a man of worth and estimation, to leaue your home 
behinde you: I am afiraid 'twill breed example. But 
let me tell you no more on't ; stand, till I view you X4<» 
all. What's become o'th nose of your flaske ? 

1. Souldier. Indeed law Captaine, 'twas blowne 
away with powder. 

Bafe. Put on a new one at the Cities charge. 
Wheres the stone of this peece? ms 

2. Souldier. The Drammer tooke it out to light To- 

Bafe. 'Tis a fault my friend, put it in againe : You 
want a Nose, and you a Stone ; Sergeant, take a note 
on't, for I meane to stoppe it in the pay. Remoue «5o 
and march, soft and faire Gentlemen, soft and faire : [73] 
double your iSles, as you were, faces about Now you 
with the sodden face, keepe in there : looke to your 
match sirrah, it will be in your fellowes flaske anone. 
So, make a crescent now, aduance your pikes, stand >55 
and giue ear. Gentlemen, Countrey-men, Friends, 
and my fellow-Souldiers, I haue brought you this day 
from the Shops of Security, and the Counters of Con- 
tent, to measure out in these furious fields. Honour 
by the ell ; and prowesse by the pound : Let it not, «6o 
o let it not, I say, bee told hereafter, the noble issue 
of this Citie fainted: but beare your selues in this 
faire action, like men, valiant men, and free-men; 
Feare not the face of the enemy, nor the noise of the 

140 on't 1778. f. 151 BCarchI W, f. (TVr march.) W, f. 
fair, gentleman 1778, f. 154 anon F, t 156 earl 1778, f. 

92 The Knight of the burning Pestle [act v 

«65 g^uns : for beleeue me brethren, the rude rumbling of 
a Brewers Carre is farre more terrible, of which you 
haue a daily experience: Neither let the stinke of 
powder offend you, since a more valiant stinke is 
nightly with you. To a resolued minde, his home is 

«7o euery where : I speake not this to take away the hope 
of your retume ; for you shall see (I do not doubt it) 
and that very shortly, your louing wiues againe, and 
your sweet children, whose care doth beare you com- 
pany in baskets. Remember then whose cause you 

«75 haue in hand, and like a sort of true-borne Scauingers, 
scoure me this famous Realme of enemies. I haue 
no more to say but this : Stand to your tacklings lads, 
and shew to the world you can as well brandish a 
sword, as shake an apron. Saint George and on my 

««o hearts. Otnnes. S^ George, St. George. ^«" 

Wife. Twas well done Bafe^ lYe send thee a cold 
Cap>on a field, and a bottle of March-beere ; and it 
may be, come my selfe to see thee. 
Cit. Nell, the boy has deceiued me much, I did 

««5 not thinke it had beene in him : he has performed 
such a matter wench, that if I Hue, next yeare Il'e haue 
him Captaine of the Gally-foist, or Il'e want my will. 

Enter old Merri-thought. 

Old mer. Yet I thanke God, I breake not a rinkle 

190 more then I had, not a stoope boyes : Care Hue with 

-\-> Cats, I defie thee, my heart is as sound as an Oke; 

[74] and though I want drinke to wet my whistle, I can sing : 

166 Carre] cart W 169—80 To ... hearts. In blank verse. Dj 
170—80 I . . . hearts. In blank verse W 179 on, my hearts 1 1778, f. 
St George, St. George 1 1778, f. 181 Ralph I 1778, f. 182 a-field 

1778, f. 187 will. [Scene III. A Room m Old Merry tkoughf i 

House. W, f. 189 wrinkle 171 1, f. 190 had. 1778, f. boys? 

Q„ f. 192 sing. {Sings, W, f. 

ACT y] The Knight of the burning Pestle 93 

Come no more there boyes, come no more there: 
For we shall neuer whilst we hue, come any more 

there. 195 

Enter a boy with a Coffin. 

Boy. God saue you sir. 

Old mer. It's a braue boy: canst thou sing? 

Boy. Yes sir, I can sing, but 'tis not so necessary 
at this time. aoo 

Old merri. Sing wee, and chaunt it, whilst loue 
doth grant it. 

Boy. Sir, sir, if you knew what I haue brought 
you, you would haue little list to sing. 

Old mer. O the Mimon round, full long long I haue aos 
thee sought. 
And now I haue thee found, & what hast thou here 
brought ? 

Boy. A Coffin sir, and your dead son lasper in it. 

Old mer. Dead ? why fare-well he : axo 

Thou wast a bonny boy, and I did loue thee. 

Enter lasper. 
lasp. Then I pray you sir do so still. 
Old mer. laspers ghost? thou art welcome from 

Stygian lake so soone, axs 

Declare to mee what wondrous things in Pluto's court 
are done. 
lasp. By my troth sir, I nere came there, tis too 
hot for me sir. 

196 Enter a Boy^ and two nun bringing in the Coffin. W, f. with 
Luci in it. W 201 Mer, {sings) Dj In stanzaic form : Sing . . . 

Whilst ... it 1750, f. 205 Mer. (sings) Dy long long I] long I 

Qt, f. 209 it [Exit with Men. Dy 2IO Mer. Dead I (sings) Dy 

Id stanzaic form : Dead ? (Why Dy) . . . Thou . . . And . . . brought ? 
1750, f. 214 ghost I Dy, f. [Sings. W, f. 

94 The Knight of the burning Pestle [act t 

a»o Old mer. A merry ghost, a very merry ghost. 
And where is your true-loue? o where is yours? 
Jew. Marie look you sir. ^ 

Old mer. Ah ha! Art thou good at that Ifaith? 
V With hey trixie terlery-whiskin, the world it runnes on 
„5 wheeles, 

When the yong mans . . . vp goes the maidens heeles. 

Mistresse Merri-thotight and Michael toithin. 
Mist. mer. What Mr. Merry-thought, will you not let*s 
in? what do you thinke shall become of vs? 
«3o Old mer. What voyce is that that calleth at our 
Mist. mer. You know me well enough, I am sure 
[76] I haue not beene such a stranger to you. 

Old mer. And some they whistled, and some they 
335 sung, Hey downe, downe : and some did lowdly say, euer 
as the Lord Bamets home blew, away Musgraue, away. 
Mist. mer. You will not haue vs starue here, will 
you Mr. Merri-thought ? 
lasp. Nay good sir be perswaded, she is my mother : 
MO if her offences haue beene great against you, let your 
owne loue remember she is yours, and so forgiue her. 
Luce. Good M^. Merri-thought let mee entreat you, 
I will not be denied. 
Mist. mer. Why Mr. Merri-thaugt, will you be a vext 
245 thing still. 

Old mer. Woman I take you to my loue againe, 
bot you shall sing before you enter: therefore dis- 
patch your song, and so cjome in. 

220 very merry ghost I [Sings. W, f. 222 Marry, Q,, f. Jftaya 

vp the Co/Jin. ] Removes the cloth, and LuCE rises out of the coffin. Dy 
228 Mist. Mer, {within.) Dy 232 Mist. Mer. {within.) Dy 234 Mer. 

{Sings) W, f. In stanzaic form : And . . . Hey . . . And . . . Ever . . . 
Away . . . away. 1750, f. 236 Musgrave, away I Dy 237 Mist. 

Mer. {wtthin). Dy 239 persuaded ; 1778, f. 244 Mist. Mer. 

{within.) l>f 245 still? Q„ f. 

ACT v] The Knight of the burning Pestle 95 

Mist mer. Well, you must haue your will when al's 
done. Miehe what song canst thou sing boy? aso 

Mich. I can sing none forsooth, but a Ladies 
daughter of Paris properly. 

Mist. mer. Song. It u?(m, a Ladies daughter, dtc. 

Old mer. Come, you'r welcome home againe. 
If such danger be in playing, and iest must to earnest ns 

You shall go no more a maying. 

March, within. Are you within sir, Maister Merri- 
thougt ? 

lasp. It is my maisters voyce, good sir go hold »«o 
him in talke whilst we conuey our selues into some 
inward roome. 

Old mer. What are you ? are you merry ? you must 
bee very merry if you enter. 

March. I am sir. 965 

Old mer. Sing then. 

March. Nay good sir open to me. 

Old mer. Sing, I say, or by the merry heart you 
come not in. 

March. Well sir, n'e sing. a?© 

Fortune my Foe, <fkc. 

Old mer. You are welcome sir, you are welcome, 
you see your entertainment, pray you bee merry. 

March. O Mr. Merri-thought, I am come to aske you 
Forgiuenesse for the wrongs I offered you, «75 [76] 

And your most vertuous sonne, they're infinite. 
Yet my contrition shall be more then they. 

249 Mist, Mer, (itntAtn.) Dy 25 1 Mich, {within.) Dy 25 1— 52 A... 
properly. Dy [ Sings within. W, f. 253 Mist. Mer. Song. ] Mich. 

{sings) 1778 om. W, f. ^'c. [MERRYTHOUGHT opens the door. Dy 
Enter Mrs. MERRYTHOUGHT and MICHAEL W, f. 254 again. [ Sings Dy 
260 voice: Dy 262 room. \Exit with Luce. W, f. 270 sing. 

\ Sings. W, f. 271 ^c. [MERRYTHOUGHT Opens the door. Dy Enter 

Venterwels W, f. 

96 The Knight of the burning Pestk [act t 

I do confesse my hardnesse broke his heart, 
For which, iust heaven hath giuen me punishment 
••©More then my age can carry, his wandring spirit 
Not yet at rest, pursues me euery where 
Crying, Fie haunt thee for thy cruelty. 
My daughter she is gone, I loiow not how. 
Taken inuisible, and whether liuing, 
••5 Or in graue, 'tis yet vncertaine to me. 

O Maister Merry-thought these are the weights, 
Will sinke me to my graue, forgiue me sir. 

Old mer. Why sir, I do forgiue you, and be merry. 
And if the wag, in's life time, plaid the knaue, 
•90 Can you forgiue him too? March. With all my 

heart sir. 
Old mer. Speake it againe, and hartely. 
Merch. I do sir, 
Now by my soule I do. 
•95 Old mer. With that came out his Paramoure. 
Shee was as white as the Lillie flower. 
Hey troule trollie lollie. ^^ 

With that came out her owne deere Knight, /^^ 

He was as true as euer did fight. &c. 
300 Sir, if you will forgiue him, clap their hands together, 
there's no more to be sad i'th' matter. 
Merch. I do, I do. 

Cit. I do not like this, peace boies, heare me one 
of you, euery bodies part is come to an end but 
30s Baphes^ and hee's left out. 

Boy. 'Tis long of your selfe sir, wee haue nothing 
to doe with his part. 

282 *rU . . . cruelty.* 1778, f. 285 in (the) grave, 1750, f. 

287 gravel 1778, f. 288 you; 1778, f. 292 heartily. Q,, f, 

294 do. [ Re-enter Luoi and Jasper Dy 295 Mer, {Sings,) W, f. 

297 lollie] loly 1711, f. 301 sad] said Q„ f. 303 this: 1778 W 
this. Dy Peace, boys! 1778, f. 304 you I 1778, f. 306 'long Dy 


ACT v] The Knight of the burning Pestle 97 

CiU Raph come away, make on him as you haue 
done of the rest, boies come. 

Wife. Now good husband let him come out and die. 3«o 

at. He shall Nel^ Raph come away quickely and 
die boy. 

Boy. Twill be very vniSt he should die sir, vpon 
no occasion, and in a Comedy too. [77] 

Cit. Take you no care of that sir boy, is not his 3«s 
part at an end, thinke you, when he's dead? come 
away Raph. 

Enter Raph, with a forked arrow through his head. 

Raph. When I was mortall, this my costiue corps 
Did lap vp Figs and Raisons in the Strand, j^ 

Where sitting I espi'd a louely Dame, 
Whose Maister wrought with Lingell and with All, 
And vnder ground he vampied many a boote, 
Straight did her loue pricke forth me, tender sprig 
To follow feats of Armes in warlike wise, m 

Through Waltham Desert, where I did perfonne 
Many atchieuements, and did lay on ground 
Huge BarharoBO that insulting Giant, 
And all his Captiues soone set at liberty. 
Then honour prickt me from my natiue soile, m 

Into Moldauia, where I gain'd the k>ae 
Of Pompana Us beloued daughter: 
But yet prou'd constant to the blacke thnm'd mairfe 
Susan, and skom*d Pompi€mae$ lone: 
Yet liberaU I was and gaoe her pimies, tik 

308 away I 1778, t make oa] Make as okI m trfl. 1 y>> 'vtr* 
1778, f. 3" NdL 177S, L 322 All.: s«l tnt I J2J vwir; 
1778 W booL Djr 324 iprif, 1711, C iyifimmpmmm\ f^m^»^ 
Of Q« F 1711 1750 Poo^rioM fTTt, C pa«ln \ix H«th>!k>lMMy^ 
1778. f. 

98 The Knight of the burning Pestle [act v 

And money for her fathers Officers, 
I then returned home, and thrust my selfe 
In action, and by all men chosen was 
Lord of the May, where I did flourish it, 

340 With skarfes and Rings, and Poesie in my hand, 
After this action, I preferred was, 
And chosen Citty Captaine at Mile-end, 
With hat and feather and with leading staffe, 
And trained my men and brought them all of cleere 

345 Saue one man that berai'd him with the noise. 
But all these things I Raph did vndertake, 
Onely for my beloued Susans sake. 
Then comming home, and sitting in my Shop 
With Apron blew, death came vnto my Stall 

350 To cheapen Aqua-vitae, but ere I 

Could take the bottle downe, and fill a taste, 
[78] Death caught a pound of Pepper in his hand, 
And sprinkled all my face and body ore, 
And in an instant vanished away. 

355 Cit. Tis a pretty fiction i'faith. 

Baph. Then tooke I vp my Bow and Shaft in hand, 
And waklt into Moore-fields to coole my selfe, 
But there grim cruell death met me againe. 
And shot this forked arrow through my head, 

360 And now I faint, therefore be wam*d by me, 
My fellowes euery one of forked heads. 
Fare-well all you good boies in merry Londofi, 
Nere shall we more vpon Shroue-tuesday meete 
And plucke downe houses of iniquitie. 

365 My paine increaseth, I shall neuer more 
Hold open, whilst another pumpes both legs. 
Nor daube a Satten gowne with rotten egs: 

336 officers. 17 1 1, f. 340 Posic 1750 posy 1778 Dy poesy W 
hand. 1778, f. 344 oflf Q„ f. 360 faint; 1778, f. 365 increa- 
seth ; Dy 

acty] Thi Ijb^ ^ Ag imrmmf Faig 

Set vp a stake, o nener sHxe £ soaiL 
I die« fde. flie mj sooie s> Arw« EEilL ^^a^^^oa^ftc 
TFt/e. Wen sasd Rmgk, dioe toot otsevsnus to t&e 3 
Gentlemen and go toot vacs, wcil 

Old tmer. Mednnkcs aE ve. t&os 
pectedly reconciled shodd occ depon 
JfifTcA. A good 
OM wur. Strike vp 

Betftor Jftifirfif mert vsi 

n^ a jvtrv •/ kemrt9 n 

I^ Mdk 4<JUr !&«# ibfltt 

TrombUd uHk ike fmU w 

Leame of tt to httft hit irwm, 

Smcik and flmrne a§ mw mrt m 

Sing (kmigk hefort ike hmr t 4f 

He $kaU riee amd tkem be crfm§. a 

JJ^y Ao, 'H» nmisfkt kmt wurtk. 

Thai keepes tke body frmm tke earik. 

ExamZ Omma. 

EpUoyui. [79] 

Cittiz. Come Xel, shall we go. die Plaies done. jf» 
Wife. Nay by my faith Ge&rye, I hane more 
manners then so. lie speake to these Gentlemen first : 
I thanke you all Gentlemen^ for yom- patience and 

368 shaU I 1778, t 369 <fie! 1778, t Oh, oi^ oli. fcc T Dia. Dy 
370 Ralph I 1778, t 371 mxf%. 1778 W w^i: Djr Ralph'* 1778, t 
[ Ralph rises^ makes ointamce^ attd exit, Df 374 icooBdled, F. C 

depart] part QaQsF 1711 1750 1778 380 been 1711,! 3S1 ipleca, 
1711, f. 382 brow 171 1, 1 383 Smooch Qt, 1 7}^ ^pmt\ 

1778, f. 385 crying, Of, ^ 3«6-87 •Heyho . . . earth.' 1778, f. 

388 Exeunt Owmes, ] Exeunt, W, t. 390 play's F, t 


100 The Knight of the burning Pestle [act v 

countenane to Baphy a poore fatherlesse child^ and if 
39S I might see you at my house, it should go hard, but 
I would haue a pottle of wine and a pipe of Tabacco 
for you, for truely I hope you do like the youth, 
but I would bee glad to know the truth: I referre it 
to your owne discretions, whether you will applaud 
400 him or no, for I will winke, and whilst you shall do 
what you will, I thanke you with all my heart, God 
giue you good night; come Oeorge. 


394 countenance Qsi f- child 1 1778 W child; Dy 397 for 70a: 

Df 401 will. 1711 heart 1778, t 402 night 1 1778, 1 

George. [Exeunt W, f. 



Of the 


Full of Mirth and Delight. 

Written by 

Francis Beamount^ 

lohn Fletcher. 


As it is now acted by her Majesties Servants 

at the Private house in Drury lane. 


Quod si 

ludidum subtik, vivendis artibus illud 

Ad libras <S* ad haec Musarum dona vocares: 

Boeotum in crasso jurares aire naium. 

Herat, in Epist ad Oct Aug. 


To the Readers of this 

GEntlemen, the World is so nice 
in these our times, that for Ap- 
parrell there is no fashion: For 
Musicke which is a rare Arte, 
(though now slighted) no In- 
strument; for Dyet, none but the 
French Kickshoes that are delicate; and for 
Playes, no invention but that which now 
runneth an invective way, touching some par- 
ticular persons, or else it is contemned before 
it is thoroughly imderstood. This is all that I 
have to say, that the Author had no intent to 
wrong any one in this Comedy^ but as a merry 
passage, here and there interlaced it with de- 
light, which he hopes will please all, and be 
hurtfuU to none. 

This address om. 171 1 1750 
music, F, f. Kickshoes] quelque chose 1778 
kickshaws W, f. but, 1778, f. 


IV Here the Bee can sucke no Honey, shee 
kaves her sting behind; and where the 
Beare cannot finde Origanum to heale 
his grief e, hee blasteth all other leaves 
with his breath. We feare it is like to fare so with 
us; that seeing you cannot draw from our labours 
sweet content, you leave behind you a sower mis- 
like, and with open reproach blame our good 
meaning, because you cannot reape the wonted 
mirth. Our intent was at this time to move in- 
ward delight, not outward lightnesse; and to 
breed (if it might be) soft smiling, not loud 
laughing : knowing it (to the wise) to be a great 
pleasure, to heare Counsell mixed with Wit, as 
to the foolish to have sport mingled with rudenesse. 
They were banished the Theater of Athens, and 
from Rome hissed that brought Parasites on the 
Stage with apish actions, or fooles with uncivill 
habits, or Courtezans with immodest words. 
We have endeavoured to bee as farre from unseemly 
speeches to make your eares glow, as wee hope you 
will be free from unkind reports, or mistaking 
the Authors intention (who never aymed at a- 
ny one particular in this Play J to make our cheeks 
blush. And thus I leave it, and thee to thine owne 
censure, to Uke, or dislike. Vale. 


all other] all the other W 
sower] sour 171 1, f. 

Author's 171 1 1750 1778 

Tk Spiohan Names. 

The Frologiie. 

Then z, GtliijpiL 

The Citfirns wife, and 

Rapk her man, sitting bdow 

amidst tiie %>ectators. 
A rich Marrhant 
lasptr his A p pie nti se, 
Master Hmmpkry^ a friend to 

tiie Ifarchant 
Lmu Maichants daughter. 
Ifistzesse Merry-tkomgki, 

laspers mother. 
Michael, a second sonne of 

CHdlL Mkny^korngkL 
A Mjuiie. 
A Dwaxfe. 
A Tsq)ster. 
A Boy tiiat dancfith and 

An Host 
A Barber. 
Two Knights. 
A Ciqitaine. 
A Seigeant. 

TV Speakers Names. ] The Actors Names F Dramatis Personae 171 1 
f. Xaph her man. ] Ralph, his apprentice. 1778, t the Knight of 
the Burning Pestle. 1778 Two Knights.] Three supposed Knights. 
1778 W Three men, supposed captives. Dy Souldiers] Soldiers, and 
Attendants. Dy William Hammerton. W, f. George Greengoose. 

W, f. Woman captive, 1778 W Woman supposed a captive. Dy 

Pompiona, princess of Moldavia. W POMPIONA, daughter to the king 
of Moldavia. Dy 


References to the text of The Knight of the Burning Pestle 
are by act and line of this edition. Other references to Beau- 
mont and Fletcher are by act and scene in Dyce's edition. 
In citations from the plays of these dramatists the authors* 
names are omitted ; a like omission occurs in citations from 
Shakespeare. Acknowledgment is uniformly made for notes 
quoted or adapted from other editions of The Knight of the 
Burning Pestk. Wheatley- Cunningham's London Past and 
Present is indicated by the abbreviation Wk-C. Explanation 
of other abbreviations is supplied by the Bibliography. 


The Knight of the Burning Pestle. Attempts to find an 
origin for this title have resulted in mere conjecture. Weber, 
in speaking of the play's general resemblance to Don Quixote, 
says : 'Indeed the very name of the play seems to be taken 
from the Knight of the Burning Shield, though no doubt our 
poets may have derived the appellation from some ancient 
romance, as Shakespeare probably did the epithet of the 
Knight of the Burning Lamp, which Falstaff bestows on 
Bardolph.' Cf. / Henry IV. 8. 8. Dyce (1. XXXIV) says the 
'title was perhaps suggested by that of an earlier (and not 
extant) play. The history of the Knight in the Burning Rock/ 
This play was produced at Court at Whitehall in 1678-9. 
Cf. Cunningham, Extracts from the Accounts of the Revels 
at Court, 1842, p. 142. 

Quod li* Ac. In Elgood's translation of Horace, these 
lines are rendered thus : « Yet were you to criticize that same 
judgment, which he exercised with such keen discrimination 
as regards the arts, in connection with books and the Muses' 
gifts, you would swear that he had been bom in the leaden 
air of the Boeotians.' Ep. 2. 2. 241-4. 

io6 The Knigfii of the Burning Pestle [tit. 

Walter Bnrre. C£ Arber's Transcript of the Stationers' 
Registers, 1664-1640, 2. 148: 

14 Septembris 

master Watkins Walter Burre sonne of [blank] Burre 
of the parishes of Southmymmes in the county of J^xsct- 
FORD y[e]oman hathe putt himself apprentice to Richard 
Watkms citizen and Staconer of London for the terme 
of nyne yeres from the feast of the nativitie of Sainct 
John babtiste Laste Paste [24 June 1687]. 

Burre was admitted to the Stationers' Company June 26, 
1696, and printed and published from 1697 to 1621. 

at the signe of the Crane in Paoles Church-yard. 'Be- 
fore the Fire, which destroyed the old Cathedral, St Paul's 
Churchyard was chiefly inhabited by stationers, whose shops 
were then, and until the year 1760, distinguished by signs.' 


To his many waies endeered Mend Haister Robert 
Eeysar. This dedicatory epistle is found, among the eariy 
editions, only in the quarto of 1618. Weber was the first 
to reprint it The succeeding editors have followed him. 
Nothing is ascertainable regarding Robert Keysar. 

parents. Considerable controversy has arisen as to 
the respective shares of Bearunont and Fletcher in the au- 
thorship. Cf. Introd., pp. XXI-XXXL 

Vnlike his brethren. None of the other plays of Beau- 
mont and Fletcher are to any marked extent similar to The 
Knight of the Burning Pestk in purpose or in manner of 
development Cf. Introd., p. XXXL 

who for want of judgement . . . vtterly rcyected it 
*From the dedication to the first quarto, it appears that The 
Knight of the Burning Pestk was damned on its first appear- 
ance. It was probably the rage of the citizens, and partic- 
ularly of the sturdy London apprentices, which condemned 

a production in which they were so severely satirized.' 


DED.] Notes 107 

father, foster-father, nurse and child. Here is an in- 
dication of single authorship, ior foster-father and nurse mani- 
festly mean Robert Keysar and Walter Burre. 

it hopes his father will beget him a younger brother. 
Another indication of single authorship. 

Perhaps it will bee thought to bee of the race of Don 
Quixote. The similarity between our play and Don Quixote 
in the objects and method of their burlesque has produced 
a theory that Beaxmiont drew his inspiration from Cervantes. 
Cf. Introd., pp. XXXH-LVm. 

it is his elder aboue a yeare. On Jan. 19, 1611—12, there 
was entered on the Stationers* Registers *A booke called. The 
delightfull history of the witty knighte Don Quishote.^ This 
was Shelton's translation of the first part of Cervantes' ro- 
mance, which was first printed at Lisbon in 1605. The second 
part was not printed till 1615, when it appeared at Madrid. 

may (by vertue of his birth-right) challenge the wall 
of him. That is, by reason of his seniority, it my claim the 
inner side of the path as a mark of acknowledgment. *To 
take the wall of, to pass(one) on that part of the road nearest 
the wall (this, when there were no sidewalks, was to take 
the safest and best position, usually yielded to the superior in 
rank) ; hence, to get the better of in any way.' Cent, Diet. 

W. B. Walter Burre. The publisher. 


Enter PBOLOOVE. In the old-time theatre, the speaker 
of the prologue entered immediately afler the third sounding 
of a trumpet, which was blown as an annoimcement that 
the play was about to begin, and that the audience, always 
noisy enough before the performance and during intermis- 
sions, should compose itself. The speaker was usually clothed 
in a black velvet gown, and crowned with a garland of bays. 
Cf. Weber's stage-direction in the variants. 'This stage 
direction,* says Weber, *as well as that respecting the citizen 
and his wife, has been added, being evidently indicated by 
the context* 

io8 T/u Kmght of the Bunumg Pestle [ikik 

It was a custom for gaDaiits and fine genUemen to wxxipy 
seats on the stage during a tiieatrical performance. Tlie 
insolence and hax^ty bearing of these q>ectators toward 
the 'groundlings' and toward the actors became an object 
of much ridicule in old plays and pamphlets. Dekker's 
satirical tract, The Gull's Hornbook, has a chapter on 'How 
a Gallant should behave himself in a Playhouse.* The manner 
of entering the theatre is thus described: 'Whether therefore 
the gatherers of the publique or priuato Play-house stand 
to receive the afternoons rent, let your Gallant (haumg paid 
it) presently advance himself up to the Throne of tiie Stage. 
I meane not into the Lords roome (which is now but tiie 
Stages Suburbes). . . . But on the very Rushes where the 
Comedy is to daunce, yea, and under the state of Cambises 
himselfe must our fethered Estridge, like a piece of Ord- 
nance, be planted valiantly (because impudently) beating 
down the opposed rascahty.' Dekker says to his imagined 
hero : ' Pre^snt not yourselfe on the Stage (especially at a 
new play) until the quaking prologue hath (by rubbing) got 
culor into his cheekes, and is ready to giue the trumpets 
their cue, that hees upon point to enter : ... for if you should 
bestow you person upon the vulgar, when the belly of the 
house is but half foil, you apparell is quite eaten up, die 
fasion lost, and the proportion of your body in more danger 
to be devoured then if it were served up in the Counter 
amongst the Powltry : avoid that as you would the Bas- 

The affectations of the dandies at the theatre are satirized 
in The Wotnan Hater 1.3:* Or, if I can find any company, 
ni after dinner to the stage to see a play ; where, when I 
first enter, you shall have a murmur in the house ; every 
one that does not know, cries, "What nobleman is that," 
all the gallants on the stage rise, vail to me, kiss their hand, 
offer me their places ; then I pick out some one whom I 
please to grace among the rest, take his seat, use it, throw 
my cloak over my face, and laugh at him ; the poor gentle- 
man imagines himselfe most highly graced, thinks all die 
auditors esteem him one of my bosom fiiends, and in right 

iND.] Notes 109 

special regard with me/ Ben Jonson has lines of similar 
import in The Devil is an Ass 1. 6: 

To-day I go to the Blackfriars playhouse, 

Sit in the view, salute all my acquaintance, 

Rise up between the acts, let fell my cloak, 

Publish a handsome man, a rich suit; 

And that's a special end why we go thither. 

All that pretend for*t on the stage: 

The Ladies ask, who's that? for they do come 

To see us, love, as we do them. 

In the Prologue to The Devil is an Ass, Jonson vigorously 
protests against the custom of giving spectators seats upon 
the stage, since the actors were left insufficient space in 
which to perform their parts. 

The garrulous and insidting comments passed upon the 
plays by the gallants are ridiculed in The Gull's Hornbook, 
chap. 6, and in Ben Jonson's The Case is Altered 2. 4. 

1-4. From all that's neere the court . . . Soeane. In the 
absence of adjustable scenery on the Elizabethan stage, the 
prologue, or one of the actors, often described or briefly 
announced the location of the play. Cf. Collier, Annals of 
the Stage 8. 875. A familiar example is in the choruses of 
Shakespeare's Henry V. Davenant's The Siege of Rhodes 
(ed. 1678) contains an elaborate description of the scenes of 
the play. Cf. also Ben Jonson, Cynthia's Revels, Ind. 

Sidney, in his Defense of Poesy (ed. Cook, p. 48), cries out 
upon the conditions which made proclamations of the scenes 
necessary in the romantic drama : ' But if it be so in Gk>r- 
boduc, how much more in all the rest? Where you shall 
have Asia of the one side, and Afric of the other, and so 
many other under-kingdoms, that the player, when he cometh 
in, must ever begin with telling where he is, or else the tale 
will not be conceived.' 

8. compasae of the Citty-wals. ' The circuit of the wall 
of London on the land side, to wit, from the tower of London 
in the east unto Aldgate, is 82 perches; from Aldgate to 
Bishopsgate, 86 perches; from Bishopsgate in the north to 
the postern of the Cripplegate, 162 perches ; from Cripplegate 
to Aldersgate, 75 perches ; from Aldersgate to Newgate, 66 

I It: Tie Kb^ if At Bawmn^ Ftstk [eoh 

ioLa^gaieL 42pcrdies; 
FnsB Lodgaie to d>e Ffeesdike 

WDO. SO die ttHsl d tlicsc pcichcs 
jmjwiu a c i a i to 6131, evwf pcrc^ MHwrJi»e of fii« yards and 
a fai3£. vfakii do jidd 3536 jmgds and a lal£ 

10.008 %oCL mlukJi mkc up tvx> E^gfidi miles and toon bj 
608 loCL' ^StaivvL, Svrrr efLimim, 1596 {cd. Thorns. 1SI2l 

There is a good afroaiir of ibe otr vails in Knigixt s 
Lomiom, VoL 1. cbapL 9L 

5u Boter ritiw Weber adft t iiuies dds stagedirectian: 
-Cmzen leaps iqMn the stage.* CX v afian t s . The chxage 
is amhonzed by the coniext. 

The Citizen is sinq)lv makii^ radier vigofo as use of a 
practice of the time: andirnrcs were in the habit of £re- 
qnemly imeimptin g a plaj, and andibly c jip i esan g thdr 
Gpimon of iL Not infrequently they rmphasired their dis- 
approval of a play by the ose of physical farce. C£ hitrod, 
p. C\T. 

7. What do yon mmana airt Oar Prcdogne^s con^xKoie 
tfaroc^out the Qtizen s stmmy iu teim pt i on s in die Induction 
does not at all accord widi DddLers 'quaking prologne,' or 
what purports to be a representative picture of die character 
at the opening of Hejrwood's Fcmr Pra^tkts : 'What meane 
you, my maisters, to appeare thus before your times? doe 
you not know that I am the Prologue? Do you not see this 
long blacke velvet cloake upon my backe? Haue you not 
sounded thrice? Do I not looke pale, as fearii^ to be out 
in my speech? Naj*, haue I not all the signes of a Pro- 
logue about me? Then, to what end come you to inter- 
rupt me?' 

8. This seren yeaiBS there hath beene playes at this 
house. The playhouse in which the Citizen finds himself is 
probably Whitefriars. In 1610, the date of our play, Beaumont 
and Fletcher seem to have been writing for the Company 
of Queen's Revels of Children, who appeared at Whitefriars 
from January of that year onward. Cf. Fleay, Biog. Chr. 2. 
403-4, and Hist, of Stage, pp. 186, 203. 

iND.] Notes 1 1 1 

The history of Whitefiriars is obscure. There is brief 
mention of an early play-place called Whitefriars in a passage 
quoted in Prynne's Histriomastix, 1683, p. 492, from a tract 
by Richard Rawledge, called A Monster lately found out and 
discovered, or the Scourging Tipplers. The writer speaks of 
the magistrates as having, soon after 1580, * obtained leave 
from her Majesty to thrust the players out of the city, and 
to pull down all playhouses and dicing houses within their 
hberties; which accordingly was effected.' Among the five 
playhouses which he enumerates is one in Whitefiiars. This 
suppression of the early theatrical resorts occurred, in Fleay's 
estimation, in 1588. Cf. Hist, of Stage, p. 54. Until recent 
years, it was supposed that there was no other record of a 
Whitefriars play -place before the patent of the Queen's 
Revels Company was issued in 1610. Certain discoveries 
of James Greenstreet prove, however, that the new White- 
friars was in operation prior to this date. In the New Shak- 
spere Society's Transactions, 1888, there is an article by 
Mr. Greenstreet, entitled The Whitefriars Theatre in the Time 
of Shakspere, based upon the prosecution of a Chancery suit 
over the affairs of Whitefriars, which took place in 1609. 
The dispute hinged upon points in the management of White- 
friars dating from the spring of 1607. This proceeding is 
of interest to us in showing that Whitefriars was a regularly 
organized theatre before 1610, and therefore that Fleay's 
position regarding the place of our play's representation is 
not invalidated by the Citizen's saying * This seven yeares 
there hath beene playes at this house.' The speech would 
indicate that the play-house had been in operation since 

The Whitefiiars theatre was the old hall or refectory of 
a dissolved monastery, which stood in the district of White- 
firiars, between Fleet Street and the Thames. Like the Cock- 
pit and Blackfiiars, Whitefiiars was a private theatre. 'These 
private theatres were enclosed dwellings, had pits with seats 
instead of open yards, there were locks on the box or room 
doors, the performances were by candlelight, and part of 
the audience sat on the stage smoking, &c. They grew 

112 The Ki^ki rf she Bmwma^ Ptstk [m 

out of the private perfdnoaooes at Bmiiae'a > &c^ of die 
gcntiy and tiie ions of Cooit Bevck, jfaA as die pubfic 
tiieatres did out of die imijaid plasrboaaes and d>e opeo- 
air scafiblds in mariDCt places.' ISsL ef Stag^^ p. 158. 

la yon bass aim gMa at QOaamm. Hie ir-wKHwrn of 
die citizens against dor UuHmtui in aU^ge-r^vesenlalioos 
is embodied in die W^amw% decree of 1606 : 'Whereas. 
Kenq>e Ann jn, and odien> pfaQnos at die Bbck-Fiies, fasve 
again not foiboni to bong vagaei dieir stage ooe ormoreof 
die Wofshqifal Conqianj of Aldennanof dieC3tf of Londoa 
to their great •t^^^^*^^ and to die ^*"*""ng of dieir aolhuiily; 
die Lords of die Right Hoooorable die Privy Coancil are 
besought, to call die said plajeis before diem and to ioquire 
into die same diat order may be taken to remedy die abase, 
either by patting down or removipg die said dieatre^' Of 
similar interest is a letter of May 10, 1601, addressed to 
'Certain justices of the peace of die oonnty of Middlesex' 
in which it is stated that 'certain players in Mocnnefidds, do 
represent upon the stage in dieir inteihides die petscMis of 
some gendemen of good desert and quality, diat are yet 
alive, mider obsone manner, but yet in sodi sort as all die 
hearers may take notice bodi of the matter and the persons 
that are meant thereby." C£ Leonhardt, Cber Bemmm o m t 
und Fletcher's Kmghi cf the Bmrmmg flestk, p. 17. 

11. The London Marehani. Dyce states that the Gtizen 
here refers to a work by Ford entitled The Lomdom Merthtmt, 
which was among the rare coDecdon of old plays destroyed 
by the cook of the antiquary, John Warborton. The (day 
appears never to have been printed, though entered on the 
Stationers' Books, June 29, 1660. Fleay remarks that The 
London Merchant has only been attributed to Ford. He says 
further, and very reasonably, that the dde, as embodied here, 
was the original name of The Knight of the Burning Pestle, 
and that D}'ce quite misunderstood the passage. CC Biog. 
Chr. 1. 235. 

11. Downs with your Title boy. The Citizen refiers to 
the placard upon which the name of the play was printed. 
The title was usually pasted upon a board, and hung in 

TSJ>] Notes 113 

some conspicuous part of the stage, so that the audience 
might read it Cf. Kyd, The Spanish Tragedy 4. 3: 

Well doon, Balthazar, hang up the Title, 

In the Induction to Ben Jonson*s Cynthicfs Revels, the third 
child advances to the front of the stage, saying : * First, the 
title of his play is Cynthia's Revels, as any man that hath 
hope to be saved by his book can witness.* At the opening 
of Ben Jonson*s Poetaster, Envy, rising in the midst of the 
stage, beholds the signboard and says: *What*s here? Th* 
Arraignment* Cf. note in Poetaster, ed. Mallory (Yale Studies 
in English, 1906). 

13. Are you a member of this noble Citty? Are you a 
citizen of this noble city? Cf. Ben Jonson, Bartholomew Fair 
2. 1 : ' Neuer shall I enough commend a worthy worshipfiill 
man, sometime a capitall member of this City.* 

15. And a Free-maxL That is, a citizen free to all the privi- 
leges of the city. The primal qualification of a ftdl citizen- 
ship seems to have been, from the earliest periods of the 
civic constitution, that of inhabitancy as a householder paying 
scot and lot About the time of Edward II, however, a 
mercantile limitation was attached to the exercise of com- 
plete rights. The growth in power of the trading classes 
gave them practical control of civic affairs. Through the 
charters granting many peculiar privileges to the mercantile 
orders, these orders came to monopolize civic frmctions to 
such an extent that the Corporation of London was really 
one concentrated Mercantile Guild, composed of many sub- 
divisions, rather than a concentration of territorial guilds, 
which, in a political and more constitutional sense, it really 
was. It was obviously to the joint interest of the trading 
companies to exclude from the participation of their chartered 
monopohes those who had not earned or paid for their 
fellowship in one or the other of their associations. Restraint 
by the tradesmen of the number of competitors was effected 
by the system of apprenticeship. The usual avenue to the 
privileges of the franchise came to be precisely through this 
service, the apprentices being ordinarily enrolled into the 


1 14 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ind. 

freedom of the city upon the expiration of their term. Citi- 
zenship, however, was not necessarily acquired in this manner. 
One might be admitted to the freedom of the dty by virtue 
of his title by birth or patrimony; or he might become a 
candidate for admission either by donation or upon a pecun- 
iary payment usually enacted on such occasions. C£ Geoige 
Norton, Commentaries on the History, Constiiution, and Chart- 
ered Franchises of the City of London, 1869, pp. 101 ft 

16. yea, and a Orocer. The Citizen wishes to empha- 
size the peculiar importance of his citizenship. The Grocers 
formed one of the twelve great livery companies of London, 
which surpassed in wealth and power all the other guilds 
of the dty. Their origin dates from the reign of Edward m, 
when the trading guilds were first generaUy chartered, and 
all artificers and 'people of mysteries' were obliged each to 
choose a single occupation, to the exdusion of every other. 
Upon this clear demarcation of the trades, the twelve great 
companies rose to greater and greater prominence. Of all 
the trade firatemities, they sent the largest number of members 
to the Common Council From them the Lord Mayor was 
exclusively chosen for centuries. To them was genially ac- 
corded the honor of entertaining foreign princes and digni- 
taries. They took precedence in all dvic triumphs and state 
processions through the city. They were the companies who 
were always most largely assessed in all levies for the gov- 
ernment of the City. The prindpal commerdal interests 
of the kingdom were centered in them, and they drew their 
members from the chief dtizens. 

The Grocers were in the very front rank among the 
twelve companies in wealth and influence. 'This company 
fiimished one hundred lord mayors, and is fiurther dignified 
by enrolling among its honorary members five kings, several 
princes, eight dukes, three earls, and twenty lords together 
with nmnerous distinguished statesmen, naval and militar}" 

officers, &c.* Maitland, New View of London, 1708, 2. 297. 

In Wh.-C. 2. 160, there is a long list of the distinguished 
members of the Grocers* Guild. The chief authorities on 
the great companies which are employed in these notes are 

iNB.] Notes 115 

Herbert, History of the Twelve Great Ltoery Companies, and 
Heath, Simie Account of the Grocers' Company. 

19. if you were not reeolu'd to pUj the lacks. To play 
the Jacks was a proverbial expression of the time, indicating 
a mean or miderhanded trick. C£ The Tempest 4. 1 : 'Monster, 
your &iry, which you say is a harmless fairy, has done little 
better than phyed the Jack with us.' 

22. The legend of Whittington. The play does not now 
exist, but its theme was undoubtedly the old tale of Whitting- 
ton and his Cat, which is stiU familiar in the nursery. 'The 
"legend" of Whittington is not known to have been narrated 
before 1605. On 8 Feb., 1604-5, a dramatic version, en- 
titled "The History of Richard Whittington, of his lowe byrth, 
his great fortune, as yt was plaied by the prynces servants," 
was licensed for the press (Arber, Stationers^ Register 3. 282). 
On 16 July, 1605, a license was granted for the publication 
of a ballad called "The vertuous Lyfe and memorable Death 
of Sir Richard Whittington, mercer, sometyme Lord Maiour." 
Neither play nor ballad is known to have survived. The 
earliest extant references to the "legend" figure in Thomas 
Heywood's "If you know not me, you know nobody" (act 1. 
sc. 1.) published in 1606, and in Beaumont and Fletcher's "Knight 
of the Burning Pestle,*' which 2q>peared five years later. Both 
references imply that serious liberties had been taken in the 
legend with the historical fEurts.' Diet, of Nat. Biog. 

The real Richard Whittington was not the poor lad of 
the legend, whose fortunes were made through the singular 
agency of his cat, but the son of a peer. In his manhood 
he became a rich merchant, and was three times chosen 
Mayor of London. He died in 1423. On account of his many 
public benefactions, 'Whittington's name was a household 
word with the Londoners of the sixteenth century, when 
many of the scanty facts of his life had ahready been for- 
gotten.' Our grocer's desire to have the story of this pop- 
ular hero and representative guild-leader enacted is emin- 
ently natural 

23. the life ft death of sir Thomae Oresham ? with the 
building of the Boyall Exchange ? ' Means certainly (Weber 


1 1 6 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ind. 

says "probably") a drama by Heywood, entitled If you know 
not me, You know nobody. The Second Part, With the building 
of the Royal Exchange. And the famous Victory of Queen 

Elizabeth: anno 1588, first printed in 1606.* Dyce. The 

play is a narration of the founding of the Royal Exchange 
by the celebrated Elizabethan merchant, Thomas Gresham, 
who out of his vast fortune furnished the money for the 
enterprise, and presented the Bourse to the city. C£ IntnxL, 

The first stone of the Royal Exchange was laid June 7, 
1566, and the building was opened by Queen Elizabeth in 
person, Jan. 23, 1670-71, an incident which is incorporated 
into Heywood's play. The building was not only a mart of 
exchange ; it rivaled Paulas Walk in the Cathedral as a 
gathering-place for newsmongers, who loimged and gossiped 
in the 'pawn* or covered corridor, which extended about 
the first story over the inner quadrangle or court The 
'pawn' was lined with a great number of small shops. The 
merchants were both English and foreign, and so great was 
the variety of nationalities that Dekker sa3rs : ' At every turn 
a man is put in mind of Babel, there is such a confusion of 
tongues.' Gresham's Exchange was destroyed in the great 
fire of 1666. Two buildings of kindred purpose have since 
been erected. Cf. Wh.-C. 

24. the story of Qneene Elenor, with the rearing of London 
bridge upon wool-sacka. 'An allusion doubtless (Weber sa^'s 
"probably") to The Famous Chronicle of king Edward the 
first, simamed Edward Longshankes, with his retume from 
the holy land. Also the life of Llevellen rebell in Wales. 
Lastly, the sinking of Queene Elinor, who sunk at Char- 
ingcrosse, and rose agcnne at Patters-hith, now named Queens- 
hith, first printed in 1693 : it was written by Peele, and may 
be found in my ed. of his Works, voL i. "The rearing of 

London Bridge upon woolsacks** is added in jest' Dyce. 

The episodes in this play which are concerned with Queen 
Eleanor were drawn by Peele fi-om a libelous ballad called 
A Warning Piece To England Against Pride And Wickedness. 
Cf. Introd., p. XCIX. 

iND.] Notes 1 1 7 

' The building of London Bridge upon wool-packs ' is an old 
saying which arose from the duty on wool levied to defray 
the cost of rebuilding the bridge. Cfl Knight, London 1. 79. 
There was also a dance so called. Cf. The London Chan- 
ticleers, 1636?, Dods-Haz., Old Eng. Plays 12. 341: *I have 
been one in my days when we kept the Whitson ale, where 
we danced The Building of London Bridge upon wool-packs, 
and The Hay upon a grass-plot' V^ooX-sacks in the text is 
evidently a misprint, though none of the editions have cor- 
rected it 

27. yon seem to bee an vnderstanding maxL The stage- 
director in Bartholomew Fair speaks of 'the vnderstanding 
Gentlemen o'the ground,' the class to which our Citizen 

30. the Commons of the Citty. Commons is here the 
ordinary term for * the body of free citizens, bearing common 

burdens, and exercising conunon rights.' ^A^. E. D, Cf. 

Grafton, Chronicles, 1668, 2. 142 : * The Commons of the Citie 
of London chose imto their Maior for that yere Thomas Fitz 

31-2. the life and death of fat Drake, or the repairing of 
Fleetpriuies. '"This probably likewise refers to a contem- 
porary play, though I have not met with any other allusion 
to it" Weber. There could have been no such drama : the 
title is merely a jocose invention.' Dyce. 

42. Rafe. This is a form of Ralph still used in Suffolk. 
Cf. Wright, Eng. Dial. Diet. It must have been common 
in the 17th century, for, as the variants show, the modernized 
name was not inserted in our text imtil 1711. 

46. Let him kill a Ljon with a pestle. Conflicts with 
lions and other wild beasts are so conunon a feature of old 
tales that it is hazardous to specify any one instance as the 
object of the satire here. One need not read any other 
romances than the Palmerin cycle, with which our play is 
directly concerned, to find this motive recurring again and 
again. The Wife's suggestion, however, has been supposed 
to have been inspired, not by the romances, but either by 
an incident in Heywood's Four Prentices of London^ or by a 

1 1 8 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [do). 

ballad entitled The Honour of a London Apprentice. C£ 
Introd., p. LXL 

49. ahall I come yp husband ? The Wife here appeals for 
her husband's approval of her mounting the stage. Seats 
on the stage were reserved for men, preferably for gallants 
alone (ct note on Weber's stage-direction, page 107—9), and 
this intrusion of a commoner's wife is very unusuaL She 
herself seems to have some feeling of her indiscretion, 

•k though she boasts of her audacity later on. C£ Ind. 127. 

^ Jonson, in the Induction to The Stapk of News, clearly 

indicates the inunodesty of such actions as the Wife's. The 
four Gossips in that play force a passage to the front of the 
platform with much boldness, but with some trepidation 
notwithstanding, and with an evident sense of novelty. One 
of them, Gk>ssip Tatle, appears to be embarrassed, and does 
not wish to be seen: 

* Mirth. Come Gk>ssip, be not ashamed. The Play is the 
Staple of News, and you are the Mistresse, and Lady of 
Tatie, lets's ha' your opinion of it : Do you heare Gentleman? 
What are you? Gentleman-usher to the play? Pray j'ou 
helpe us to some stooles here. 

Prologue. Where, o' the Stage, Ladies ? 

Mirth. Yes, o' the stage; wee are persons of quality, I 
assure you, and women of fashion ; and come to see, and to 
be scene: My Gk>ssip Tatle here, and Gk>ssip Expectation, 
and my Gossip Censure, and I am Mirth, the daughter of 
Christmas, and spirit of Shrovetide. They say. It's merry 
when Gossips meet, I hope your play will be a merry one! 

Prologue. Or you will make it such. Ladies. Bring a 
forme here, but what will the Nobleman thinke, or the Grave 
Wits here, to see you seated on the bench thus ? 

Mirth. Why what should they thinke ? but that they had 
Mothers, as we had, and those Mothers had Gk>ssips (if their 
children were Christened) as we are, and such as had a 
longing to see Playes, and sit upon them, as wee doe, and 
arraign both them and their Poets.' 

Cf. note in The Staple of News, ed. Winter {Yale Studies 
in English, 1905). 

55. I'me a strager here. The Wife was probably a stranger 
at the theatre because of the general disapproval of women's 
appearance there. As would appear from Ind. 56-60, the 

DO).] Nous "9 

Citizen has been reluctant about taking his spoose to ±e 
theatre at all. 

For an expression of the Puritans' oppositioo to woescc's 
attendance at the playhouse, cL StephMsn Gofison, Sck(»l cf 
Abuse, pp. 68 fif. (Arber's Reprints). Disapproval of tisc prac- 
tice, however, was not confined to die Puritans^ Fnxn tbt 
following ordinance, passed as eariy as Dec 6. 1574, -jy 
' Order of the Common Council of London in iratf lar ' -A 
Dramatic Exhibitions,* we learn of the peculiar snares z^'A 
out to women at the playhouses, as weO as the iamo:::^ 
character of the audiences, and the tendency of the zi^/:^ 
respectable part of the municipality to frown xspoa the e:vik 
attending the early theatres: * Whereas heattokfrt srjoirj^ 
great disorders and inconvenjences have been faocd v^ 
ensewe to this Cittie by the inordynate hannQnoge of greacte 
multitudes of people, specially yootfae, to playes, eateibAs^ 
and shewes; namelye occasyon of frayes and quairelL eav^i: 
practizes of incontinencye in great bmes, havinge cha&Tvtrf 
and secrete places adjoynynge to tfietr open ttagies ^oA 
galleries, inveyglyngbge and allewiynge of maides. tpmsuly^ 
orphanes, and good dtyzens children under age, to pr»rv>!; 
and unmete contracts, the publishing of nnrhastr, uacomekr/t. 
and imshameiaste speeches and doyings, wididrawioge of t^^ 
Queues Majesties subjects from dyvyne service on Soa»iai^ 
& hoUydayes.' Hazlitt, Drama and the Stage, p. 27, 

Ben Jonson is careful to extend the dangers to mifely vjrt'>^ 
in particular, to other influences besides the theatres, MCy 
including the Puritan service itself: 'Alas sir, doe you frv^ 
thinke to find a chaste wife, in these times now? when ther«; 
are so many masques, plaies, puritan preachings, mad folkx 
and other strange sights to be seen daily, private ar,d 
publique?* Epicoene 2. 2. 

57. should haue seene. Was to have seen. ' Shoiild t)i 
sometimes used as though it were tfie past tense of a \tt\j 
" shall," meaning " was to," not quite "ought' Compare the 
German "sollen". 

"About his son that skauU (was to) have married a »hef>« 
herd's daughter." ^W. T. 

120 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [no). 

"The Senate heard them and received them curteously, 
and the people the next day should (were to) assemble in 

counsell to give them audience." ^N. P. Alcibiades, 170/ 

Abbott, Shakes. Gram., p. 170. 

57. Jane Shore. We cannot unmistakably identify the play 
to which allusion is here made. In the Stationers' Registers 
(Arber's Transcript 3. 147) we read: *Entred from their 
copyes Vnder the handes of the Wardens : Twoo playes beinge 
the ffirst and Second parts of Edward the Illjth and the 
Tahner of Tamworth With the history of the life and deathe 
of Master Shore and Jane Shore his Wyfe as yt was lately 
acted by the Right honorable the Erie of Derby e his servantes.' 
The date of the entry is Aug. 28, 1699. Fleay asserts that 
this is the play to which the Wife refers, but that it is not 
imquestionably the work of Heywood, as is assumed by 
Collier, Halliwell, and others. Cf. Biog. Chr. 1. 288. Ward 
ascribes the work to Heywood, and sa3rs that oiu- passage 
bears reference to it Cf. Eng. Dram. Lit. 2. 656. Dyce is 
inclined to look upon the Jane Shore of the text as some 
drama which bore that title, and which is not extant He 
suggests that it may be a lost play of Chettle and Day, who 
in January 1601-2 were paid forty shillings by Heiislowe 
in order that the *booke play of Shoare' might be 'newly 
written.* Jane Shore appears in a few scenes of the old 
play, The True Tragedie of Richard III, 1594, which is asso- 
ciated with Shakespeare's Richard III ; and * the well-fre- 
quented play of Shore' is mentioned in a metrical tract 
entitled Pimlyco, or Runne Red-cap, 1609. 

Whatever may have been the character of the lost play 
or plays to which these allusions relate, there is sufficient 
probability that the drama commonly attributed to He3'wood 
was in great favor with the citizens, and hence that the Wife 
had it in mind. Cf. Introd., p. XCVm. 

59. Bold Beanchams. This is among the plays traditionally 
ascribed to Heywood, but not now extant 'Among the latter 
may be mentioned The Bold Beachams (^eaLMchzxaps), which 
in the Induction to The Knight of the Burning Pestle the 
Citizen's Wife longingly couples with one of Hejrwood's 

IND.] Notes 121 

established City favorites.' Ward, Eng. Dram. Lit. 2. 583. 

The * established favorite ' is Jane Shore. The play is supposed 
to have celebrated the valor of Thomas Beauchamp, Earl 
of Warwick, 'who in the year 1346, with one squire and 
six archers, fought in hostile manner with an hundred armed 
men, at Hogges in Normandy, and overthrew them, slaying 

sixty Normans, and giving the whole fleet means to land.' 

Ray, Proverbs, ed. 1768, p. 218. Warwick's bravery became 
so proverbial that the phrase bold Beauchamp or as bold 
as Beauchamp passed current as a term appUcable to any 
man of surpassing courage. 'Drayton derives it from the 
bravery of the earls of Warwick, of that name in general 

So hardy great and strong. 
That after of that name to an adage grew. 
If any man advent'rous hapt to shew. 
Bold Beauchamp men him term'd, if none so bold as he. 

Polyolb, song XVm, p. 1007.' ^Nares, Glossary. 

61. Boy. Boys attended at the theatres, and supplied the 
wants of the spectators. C£BenJonson,Air/SAoibiMfiiy/afr5.3: 
'Have you none of your pretty boys now, to bring stools, fill 
tobacco, fetch ale, and beg money, as they have at the other 
houses ? ' 

61. stooles. The spectators who sat upon the stage were 
provided with stools. Dekker directs his gallant to wait until 
the prologue is to begin, and then 'to creepe from behind 
the Arras, with your Tripos, or three-footed stoole, in one hand, 
and a teston [L e. sixpence] mounted between a forefinger 

and a thumbe in the other.' GuU*s Hornbook, chap. 6. 

Cf. The Staple of News, Induction. 

We learn from Dekker that the price of a stool was 
sixpence. C£ CynOMs Revels, Induction : 

'J Child A stool, boy ! 

2 Child Ay, sir, if you'll give me sixpence I'll fetch 
you one.' 

63. we have nener a boy to play him. It should be re- 
called that The Knight of the Burning Pestle was first acted 
by the Children of the Queen's Revels at Whitefriars Theatre. 
Cf. Ind. 8, and note. This company was organized from the 

122 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ind. 

Children of the Chapel Royal, who had from the beginning 
of Elizabeth^s sovereignty presented p]a3rs at court Towards 
the end of her reign they were made into a regular company, 
and * set up ' at the Blackfriars, which was opened in 1597. 

Under the Privy Seal of James I, Jan. 31, 1604, the 
Chapel Children were reorganized as the Children of Her 
Majesty's Revels. The warrant appoints Edward Kirkman, 
Alexander Hawkins, Thomas Kendall, and Robert Payne 'to 
provide, keepe, and bring up a convenient number of Child- 
ren. And them to practize and exerdse in the quallitie of 
playing, by the name of Children of the Revells to the Queene 
wthin the Blackfryers in our Cittie of London, or in any other 
convenient place where they shall thinck fitt for that pur- 
pose.' The complete document is reprinted in Hazlitt's The 
English Drama and Stage, p. 40. 

In 1610, January 4, the lease of Blackfriars having been 
turned over to the King's company, the Children received 
a new patent, and removed to Whitefriars. We learn from 
the list of actors prefixed to Ben Jonson's Epicoene, which 
was produced by this second Queen's Revels, that one mem- 
ber of the reorganized company was Nat Field, who was 
even then becoming celebrated as an actor. Near the date 
of our play, the Queen's Revels Children acted, besides The 
Knight of the Burning Pestle, the following productions of 
Beaumont and Fletcher: Four Plays in One, Lovers Cure, 
The Scornful Lady, The Coxcomb, and Cupid's Revenge. 

For these and further particulars regarding the Queen's 
Revels Children, consult Collier, Annals of the Stage 1. 362 ft; 
Fleay, Hist of the Stage; and H. S. Mallory, ed. Ben Jonson's 
Poetaster, pp. 137 fif. 

69. a 8uit of reparrel and necessaries. The enactments 
which regulated the apparel of the different classes of so- 
ciety were not extended to the dress of actors. The *Act 
of Apparel,' 3 and 4 Edw. IV, 1484, which specified these 
regulations, made a distinct exception in regard to 'players 
in their enterludes.' Like reservation was made in similar 
enactments under Henry Vin. C£ Collier, Annals of the 
Stage 1. 27, 60. 

DO).] Notes 123 

The costliness of the stage-dresses varied no doubt ac- 
cording to the playhouse. Whitefriars, where our play was 
presented, being a private theatre, and under royal patron- 
age, was presumably richer in its appointments than the 
more public places. We gather, however, from the Induc- 
tion to Ben Jonson*s Staph of News, that even the wardrobe 
of the King^s Servants, who acted that comedy, was meagre : 
* O Curiosity, you come to see who wears the new suit today ; 
whose cloathes are best pen'd, whatever the part be ; which 
actor had the best leg and foot; what king pla3rs without 
cuffs, and his queen without gloves: who rides post in 
stockings, and dances in boots,^ 

71. blow winds in the taile on hinL F. W. Moorman, 
editor of our play in The Temple Dramatists, glosses the 
phrase to speak disparagingly of, an interpretation which has 
in its support the similar meaning of the obsolete phrase 
to blow upon, L e. /So criticize; but we have here, it seems 
to me, the coarse, but sufficiently clear, indication of a 
specific indignity. 

80. Hold up the head. This is the figurative use of the 
phrase To hold up one's head, i. e. to maintain one's dignity, 
self-respect, or cheerfulness. 

Do*s he hold up his head (as it were ?) and strut in his gate ? 
Merry Wives of Windsor 1. 4. 

The proud man holds up his head too high to see his way. 

Norris, Treat. Humility 8. 339. 

85—9. By heanen . . . lake of helL These lines are taken, 
with slight alterations, from Hotspur's speech in / Henry IV 
1. 3, where they stand thus: 

By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap, 

To pluck bright honour from the psde-fac'd moon ; 

Or dive into the bottom of the deep. 

Where fathom-line could never touch the ground. 

And pluck up drowned honour by die locks. 

Weber gives credence to the notion that this passage 
as it stands in our play is in direct ridicule of Shakespeare. 
This is an unwarranted assumption, for any reader oi Henry IV 
will see that Shakespeare intentionally introduces bombast 

124 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ikd. 

here in order to reflect the character of Hotspur ; and un- 
doubtedly Ralph is made to spout the lines simply in order 
that he may appropriately comply with the Wife's request 
that he speak a 'huffing part' It can hardly be doubted 
that Shakespeare's contemporaries understood his purpose in 
the speech, and would not have attempted to travesty it 
There is in our passage, however, an evident satire on the 
crude taste of the citizens, who assuredly would have taken 
Hotspiu-'s sounding phrases with a relish. 

91. before. 'Perhaps crept into the text by the mistake 
of the original compositor.' Dyce. 

92. Musidoras. The first extant edition of this play, 1598, 
bears the following title : A Most pleasant Comedie of Muse- 
dorus the kings sonne of Valentia and Amadine the Kings 
daughter of Arragon, with the merie conceits of Mouse. Newly 
set foorth, as it hath bin sundrie times plaide in the honor- 
able Cittie of London. Both the action and the language 
of Mucedorus are exceedingly childish and absurd. The hero, 
Prince Mucedorus, secretly leaves his father's court, and in 
the disguise of a shepherd rescues the King of Arragon's 
daughter, Amadine, from the clutches of a bear. To him 
her affections are speedily transferred from her affianced 
lover, Segasto, who had precipitately fled at the sight of 
the bear. Amadine and Mucedorus are on the point of elop- 
ing, when the princess is carried away by a wild-man-of- 
the-woods named Bremo. Her lover, this time disguised as 
a hermit, rescues her by killing the savage. They return 
to court, Mucedorus reveals his identity, and the match is 
sealed. The extraordinary popularity of the play is attrib- 
utable to 'the merie conceits' of Mouse, the clown, whose 
antics are the broadest sort of buffoonery. The popular 
success of Mucedorus was so enduring that no less than 
eleven editions appeared between 1698 and 1668, and during 
the suppression of the theatres it was acted by strolling 
players. Cf. Introd., p. XCK. 

The authorship of the play is unknown. It was once 
attributed to Shakespeare, but on the slightest evidence, 
Fleay regards Thomas Lodge as the author, since Lodge 

iND.] Notes 1 25 

was the only playwright connected with the Queen's men 
of 1587 (by whom it was acted) who could have written it 
Cf. Btog. Chr. 2. 60, and Ward, Ettg. Dram. Lit. 2. 225. 

92. before the Wardens of onr.Crompany. We recall here 
the well-known fact that the early miracle plays were often 
acted by the guilds. After the development of the regular 
drama, plays continued to be presented by the members of 
the different fraternities in the separate guildhalls. This was 
especially the custom at the ceremonies which installed new 
officers. Short dramas, like Macedarus, and many of the 
old miracle plays, interludes, and other pieces consisting of 
a single subject, and making but one action, were particularly 
in vogue. This taste continued until long after the establish- 
ment of the regular theatres. There is an illustration of the 
practice given by an original license from the Master of 
Revels in 1662, preserved in the Guildhall Ubrary, which 
authorizes 'George Bailey, musitioner, and eight servants, 
his company, to play for one year a play called Noah's 
Flood.' The eight persons were just sufficient to personate 
the patriarch and his family. C£ Herbert, History of the 
Twelve Great Companies 1. 85. 

Normally, a livery guild was composed of a prime or 
master warden, secondary wardens, a court of assistants, a 
Uvery, and the general body of freemen. To them may be 
added the apprentices, making in all six grades. Cf. Hazlitt, 
Tlte Livery Companies of the City of London, p. 19. In 
speaking of the Grocer's Guild, Maitland says : ' This com- 
pany consists of a prime and three other wardens, fifty-two 
assistants, and one hundred and twenty-seven livery-men, 

whose fine upon admission is twenty pounds.' History of 

London, p. 1232. 

94. hee ahoold hone played Jeronimo with a ahoomaker 
for a wager. Jeronimo is the name of the hero of two Eliz- 
abethan plays. The First Part of Jeronimo, not printed 
till 1605, is very questionably attributed to Thomas Kyd. 
Tlie Spanish Tragedy, or Hierom'mo is mad againe, is the 
undoubted production of Kyd ; the earUest extant edition 
which bears a date is the quarto of 1594, though there is 

126 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ikd. 

another undated quarto which is seemingly earlier. C£ 
F. S. Boas, Works of Thomas Kyd, 1901. 

The Spanish Tragedy is now acknowledged to contain 
a great deal of dramatic power ; yet it contains in an ex- 
cessive degree the extravagances of * the tragedy of blood,' 
of which it is the chief example. In its own day, its ab- 
surdities called forth repeated ridicule in contemporary lite- 
rature. Some of the best known allusions or quotations are 
found in Taming of the Shrew, Ind. 1 ; 8 Henry VI 5. 6 ; 
Ben Jonson's Every Man In his Humour 1. 4 ; Cyntiuets 
Revels, Ind. 2 ; Alchemist 8. 2 ; and The New Inn 2. 2. In 
our play, the most direct and extended satire on the tragedy 
is Act 6, 11. 319-71. 

It seems not to have been uncommon to act a part for 
a wager. Cf. Dekker, The Gull's Hornbook, chap. 7 : ' And 
let any hooke draw you either to a Fencers supper, or to 
a Players that acts such a part for a wager; for by this 
meanes you shall get experience, by beeing guilty to their 
abhominable shauing.* In Malone's Shakespeare (in Boswell 
3. 285), there is printed a letter based upon a wager that 
the actor Alleyn would equal his predecessors Bentley and 
Knell in some play wherein the latter had appeared. It is 
addressed to Alleyn, and concludes : * I see not how you can 
any waie hurt your credit by this action: for if you excell 
them, you will then be fEimous ; if equall them, you win both 
the wager and credit ; if short of them, we must and will 
saie, Ned Allen still. 

Your friend to his power 
W. R' 

96. if he will go in. The speaker of the prologue is sug- 
gesting that Ralph enter the players* dressing-room, which 
was known as the 'tiring-house,* and was situated directl}' 
behind the stage. There, because of the frequent change 
of bills in the old theatres, a large supply of properties 
likely to be needed was kept on hand. Ralph doubtless 
found the desired grocer's garments stored there. C£ In- 
trod., p. LXXDC, for a passage from Brome's Antipodes which 

iND.] Noies ' 127 

gives a ludicrous description of the incongruous medley of 
dresses and other stage-furniture in the tiring-house. 

97. Ghrocery. The dictionaires give this word as a term for 
the goods or the trade of the grocers, and do not apply it 
as a collective term for the members of the grocers* guild, 
which is evidently its meaning here. Eds. 1711 and 1750 
read grocers, Cf. variants. 

97. in their kinde. 'The grocers' resolutions prescribed 
the wearing of a livery to that company, at their first 
meeting in 1346; and from their ordinances in 1848, which 
are, perhaps, the earliest known in which the fashion of it 
is particularized, we find that the common habit consisted 
of an upper and an under garment, called a "coat and a 
surcote;" the doak or gown, and the hood, being reserved 
for ceremonials, and completing what was termed "the full 
suit.** There seems also to have been an undress, or part 
dress, called the " hooding," perhaps allowed to freemen, who 
were not esteemed "fiill brothers," like the livery. ... To 
be admitted on the livery of a company was technically 
called "having the clothing." The grocers' firatemity were 
to be "clothed once a year in a suit of Uvery ; and if they 
desire more, the same to be by assente, whether as coats 
or surcotes ;" the purchase of this dress was to be made by 
the wardens, who were to receive a deposit of one penny 
from each person ordering it, forty pence more when the 
livery was bought, and the balance when it was delivered 
to the wearer. It was to be worn by all the fi:atemity, and 
was to last for two years. ... All the companies continued 
to vary in the colour of their habit, until it became settled, 
about the beginning of the seventeenth century ; but they 
appear, notwithstanding their dififerences as to colours, to 
have dressed, as to fashion, nearly uniform as now.' Her- 
bert, History of the Twelve Uvery Companies of London 1. 68. 
There seems always to have been a combination of colours 
in the habit of the Grocers. In 1411 it was scarlet and 
green, in 1418 scarlet and black ; later it was blue and dark 
red, then 'vylotte in grayne and for hodyes, pasted with 
crymscn,' &c &c. 

1 28 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [did. 

110. What stately musio have yon ? The custom of intro- 
ducing music between the acts seems to have been in vogue 
from the earliest period of the English drama. 'At the end 
of Act 2 of Gammer Gurton*s Needle, Diccon, addressing 
himself to the instrumental performers, tells them : " In tiie 
meantime, fellows, pipe up your fiddles;" and, perhaps, we 
may conclude that music was also played at the close of the 
other acts, although it is not mentioned. In The Two Itatian 
Gentlemen, by Anthony Mimday (printed about 1584), tiie 
dififerent kinds of music to be played after each act are 
mentioned, whether " a pleasant galliard," " a solemn dump," 
or " a pleasant allemaigne." Marston is very particular in 
his Saphonisba, 1606, in pointing out the instruments to be 

played dtuing the four intervals of the acts : "the coronets 

and oigans playing loud frdl music" for Act i ; "organs mixed 
with recorders" for Act ii; "organs, viols, and voices" for 

Act iii ; and "a base lute a treble viol" for Act iv.' Collier, 

Annals of the Stage 8. 448. 

111. ahawmes. A shawm 'was clearly a reed instrument 
like the shepherd's pipe, although Mr. Chappell thinks it more 
closely allied to the modem clarinet The older dictionaries 
define it as "a hautboy or comet," and it is so firequently 
associated with the bagpipe that there must evidently have 

been some affinity between the two instruments.* Grove, 

Dictionary of Music and Musicians. 

114. Rafe playes a atately part» and he moat needs haue 
ahawnes. The Citizen rightly regards the music of the shawm 
as ' stately,' and appropriate to ' a stately part,' since the in- 
strument was commonly played on state occasions. The 
pageant of the Lady of the Lake for Queen Elizabeth at 
Kenilworth Castle, 1575, was, according to the account of 
an eye-witness, 'clozed vp with a delectable harmony of 
Hautboiz, ShcUmz, Comets, and such other looud muzik.' 
C£ Laneham's Letter {Ballad Soc. Pub., 1871, p. 7). 

119. waits. ' Originally certain minstrels or musical watch- 
men attached to the households of kings and other great 
persons, who paraded an assigned district sounding the hours 
at night Until very recently, the Waits of the City of West- 

DO).] Notes 129 

minster were regularly sworn before the " court of Burgesses." 
. . . Many cities and towns, both English and foreign, en- 
couraged and licensed their "waits", Exeter among other 
places having a regular company as early as the year 1400. 
. . . The word was sometimes used to describe those who 
acted as the town musicians but who did not do duty as 
watchmen. It was also given to any company of performers 
when employed as serenaders. The instruments used were 
a species of hautboys, called also shawms, and from their use 

" waits".' Stainer and Barrett, Dictionary of Musical Terms. 

Cf. Shirley, Witty Fair One ^2: 'We will haue the dty 
waites down with us, and a noise of trumpets.' 

119. South-warke. This now important borough of London, 
situated on the south side of the Thames, was even in the 
17th century a district of considerable size. 'In 1631, during 
a time of scarcity, the Lord Mayor counted 16,880 mouths 
in Southwark.' ^Wh.-C. 

120. that wiU fetch them all or'e the water. It will be 
recalled that the Citizen is in the Whitefriars Theatre, situ- 
ated near Fleet Street, and hence on the side of the ' water ' 
opposite Southwark. C£ Ind. 8, and note. 

126. ait you merry alL Sit you merrily alL Adjectives 
are freely used as adverbs in Elizabethan English. C£ Mac* 
beth 2. 4 : 

Which the £alse man does easy. 
Cf. also Measure for Measure 6. 1 : 

And she will speak most bitterly and strange. 

133. prioate taxes. 'Charges, censures on individuals.' 
Dyce. C£ As You Like It 2.1: 

Who cries out on pride, 
That can therein tax any private party? 

Who can come in and say that I mean her, 
When such a one as she such is her neighbor? 

The sentiment of the two prologues of Ben Jonson's Ept- 
coene is similar to that of the present passage. We are 
told that the art of making plays is ' to content the people,' 


130 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act i 

and to avoid personal censures, though vices should be 
scourged : 

And still't hath been the praise of all best times. 
So persons were not touched, to tax the crimes. 

Cf. The Magnetic Lady 2. 1 : ' ProL A play, though it apparal 
and present vices in general, flies from all particularities in 

133. immodest. Ed. 1778 and Weber print for metrical 
reasons ' all immodest' 

138. The prologue, having been allowed to finish his lines, 
discloses the usual purpose of such speeches as his, which 
was to elicit a favorable attention for the actors by con- 
ciliating the audience or hinting at the theme of the ensuing 

Act L 

3. And whom. And one whom. There is an ellipsis of 
the predicative nominative here, in conformity with tiie fre- 
quent 17th century practice of omitting the nominative when- 
ever there can be no doubt what it is. Cf. Abbott, Shakes. 
Grant., p. 287. 

4. gaue thee heate and growth. This is a figurative ex- 
pression, of which the meaning is suggested by the context 
The Merchant means that he has lifted Ralph out of the 
discouragements attendant upon 'fortune's frdl,' that he has 
given him new animation, vigor, spirit, and the chance of 
advancement in life. 

30. She's prioate to her selfe and best of knowledge. 
She is alone aware of her own purposes, is her own mistress, 
and ' best knows whom shell make so happy as to sigh for.' 

38. must be. All eds. except Qi and Weber read shall 
be, an alteration which gains support from the presence of 
shall be in the preceding line. It is probable, however, that 
the original text is right Must be in the sense of simple 
futurity, devoid of any idea of compulsion, is sometimes 
found in the Elizabethan writers. Cf. A Midsummer Nights 
Dream 2. 1 : 

ACT i] Notes 131 

Why art thou here, 
Come from the farthest steppe of India ? 
But that, forsooth, the bouncing Amazon, 
Your buskin'd mistress and your warrior love. 
To Theseus must be wedded. 

Cf. also Macbeth 5. 8. 12, and Abbott, Shakes. Gram., p. 223. 

51. Statute. Fleay, without naming the articles of the act, 
asserts that the statute to which an allusion is here made 
was passed on Jan. 7, 1609. Cf. Biog. Chr. 1. 183. Parlia- 
ment, in the first place, was not in session on that date, and, 
moreover, none of its provisions passed in this period of 
James' reign are applicable to our passage. 

54. offers. An obsolete sense of offer in A^. E. D. is that 
of something presented for acceptance. This is not fax from 
the sense of the text; but, as opposed to the Merchant's 
shows of anger, the word would seem to have the more 
specific meaning oi something held out as a bribe or means of 
persuasion (L e. to induce Luce to forsake Jasper and marry 
Humphrey), and I have so defined it in the Glossary. 

61. desires. * "Probably designs''. — Ed. 1778. The text 
is perfectly right, being accordant with the language of the 
age, and meaning, "to what we ourselves desire to consum- 
mate." ' ^Weber. 

72. and. Modem eds. read an, meaning tf The alteration 
is unwarranted. Both and and an, in the sense of if, were 
in good usage in the 17th century. See Glossary. C£Shelton, 
trans, first part of Don Quixote, 1612, Bk. 3, chap. 7, p. 183 : 
* They may tell it and they please.' 

77—9. Licoras . . . bid him bite a peace, 'twill open his 
pipes the better. The Wife attests the early use of liquorice 
for loosening the phlegm and clearing the voice. N. E. D. 
cites Herman, Vulg. 1519, p. 39: 'Lycuresse is good for the 
voyce.' C£ also Boorde, Dyetary, 1542, p. 287 : * Lyqueryce 
. . . doth loose fleume.' 

92. Although* as Writers say, all things haue end. Cf. 
Hey wood, If you know not me, p. 266, ed. Dyce : 

, All things that haue beginning haue their ends : 

r^ Your hate must haue conclvision ; then be friends. 



132 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act i 

101. didst thou euer see a prettier child. Cf. Ind. 8, and 
note. As the context proves, the Wife's meaning is, • didst 
thou ever see a tnore clever, better trained, child ? ' Cf. preify 
in Glossary. 

104. M. Monkester's schollars. Richard Monkester, or Mul- 
caster, was one of the celebrated pedagogues of the day. 
He was made head-master of the Merchant Taylors' School 
upon its organization in 1561. It is supposed that the poet 
Spenser was one of his earliest pupils at the Merchant Tay- 
lors*. In 1596, he was elected head-master of St Paul's School 
He held this office until his resignation in 1608. He died 
in 1611. His pedagogical methods are of peculiar interest 
in connection with the Wife's query, in that he trained his 
pupils in the performance of masks and pla3rs, the boys often 
appearing before Elizabeth and the Comt. Cf. Diet, of Nat. 
Biog. ColUer makes mention of plays enacted by these 
children before Hampton Court, at Christmas and Shrovetide. 
Cf. Annals of the Stage 1. 295, 208-9, 248-9. 

109. conny. This old term of endearment, as is here ex- 
emplified, may be apphed to a man, although N. E. D. notices 
it only as applied to a womaiL For the more prevalent 
employment cf. 4. 44, 32. 487, &c. 

116. has. «"He has" is fi-equently pronounced and some- 
times written "has." . . . 

Bring him forth ; has sat in the stockes all night, 
A.W.IV. a. 116.' Abbott, Shakes. Gram., p. 288. Modern- 
ized by Dyce to h*as. Cf. variants. 

184. your fathers warren. The Merchant has an eye to 
the profit which was derived at the time from the sale of 
rabbits' skins. 'As for warrens of conies, judge them almost 
iimimierable, and daily like to increase, by reason that the 
black skins of those beasts are thought to countervail the 
prices of their naked carcases, and this is the only cause 
why the grey are less esteemed. Near unto London their 
quickest merchandise is of the young rabbits.' — Harrison, 
Description of England, 1577, Bk. 2, chap. 15. 

144. TUler. In obsolete use, a tiller is the handle of a 
crossbow ; hence it Ls employed, as in the present instance, to 

^ ^1^^ IT 

ACT i] Aiua 

denote the bow itseH Seedassarr. C£71ir 
r 'Bring out the cat-hovmds; 111 
with my tiller bring down y% 

148. But as the prorert waiam^ I i 
had not seem me. I have faaod so wadL pEX ' i«L Ljcsl jl 
keeping with the stoatioii, aeeiB to be inrri i i^ iu THMnirt 

Dyce supplies a ?at«fartoiy a!irfjliii«> ct ±e jHiii'ii^jfim L 
Cf. variants. 

151. strange paaBUHL ' Sjnqwxi axriu -^Ti seaiL iir & .aos- 
5/^i!r and raise a tamu, to wJilniJiMJ 2 Solsks /■iiiiiuwy 
borders seemingly near iqioo nmwfiwr s'^ le -■nnuf ±e9»3- 
fore read, Strong passion: but we see aicr ssskil -n^ tte 
may not go firom one melJt i li o t to 

155. that great watdi ofTli 
quotes from Herbert. HisL of Ae Tandbr Groot Lkuer^ Cum^ 
panies 1. 196: 'Thesettiiig ontofwfBtwas caileif ^^^eMic^ 
summer watch," we should lia:ve noticed fartrr is ^n^«i 
belonging to the more ancienf eiasi of dbe c r^ i iyimirt ttii«vt 
already mentioned, but diall describe k kert. Tiis -». as 
we have seen "intheOrder of dieocMnpBBaes ixiii^ Mmrkam^ 
Watch,'' a ceremony of estaUidied see m ^ut ^"^si 'X £^ 
ward IV, and similar directioas ssp^/taz to iar^ V;«a. rqr^ 
larly given every succeeding le^gn. Si(?w ^^res ^ ^^i^s^fjjtt 
account of this pageant in die re^ rA Vkaatj VUL -sisr^ 
monarch came purposely widi his qnees Vj r-^^rs x. 'ST^ 
shall not again repeat his account, whech iatt '':^:^sl "jS^t. 
copied, but merely observe, diat die Maxciak^ Wadtsr vsa 
a grand sort of annual mifitaiy nnater of dae cfsszesiL ^s> 
bodying all the companies, for liie pcnpose of fcraaoo^ a reg- 
ular guard for the city daring liie rntning year. Tz^ t^ji-^ 
lation for magnificence on this occaskn cx^acuA as: «z^^t=i^ 
so great and detrimental that Htnry VUL prA£'Au:^ tbt 
show, and confined the citizens to the merely mtxrx^'yjt 
and efiSdent object of the asKmbling. h was afterward 
revived on a more economical plan, and coabxa^ ^A^ 
the name of the "Standing Watch,'' tiD the kncK waji ^iaJly 
superceded by the City Trained Bands, now the ArtiJfery 

134 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act i 

160. a paire of gloves. Among the most ancient of mar- 
riage-customs is that of presenting gloves as love-tokens both 
at the betrothal and the wedding. In The Scorfrful Lady 1. 1 
are these lines : 

Believe me, if my wedding-smock were on, 

Were the gloves bought and given, the licence come, 

I would not wed that year. 

The vagaries aroused in lovers* minds by exchanging 
gloves before marriage are indicated in the following passage 
from the Arraignment of lewd, idle, forward, and unconstatd 
Women, 16S2: 'Some thinke that if a woman smile on 
them, she is presentlie over head and ears in love. One 
must weare her glove, another her garter, another her 
colours of delight' 

Gloves were given not only to the contracting parties, but 
also to the wedding guests. In Ben Jonson's Epicoene 3. 6, 
Lady Haughty, incredulous as to the predicted marriage of 
Morose, says : ' We see no ensigns of a wedding here, no 
character of a BridalL Where be our Scarves and Gloves?* 
The mementos were even sent to friends who were absent 
from the ceremony. Cf. Field, Amends for Ladies: 'I am 
come from Master Ingen this morning, who is married, or 
to be married; and though your ladyship did not honour 
his nuptials with your presence, he hath by me sent each 
of you a pair of gloves.^ C£ fruther. Beck, Gloves, their An- 
nals and Assodations, London, 1883, pp. 236-238, and Brand, 
Popular Antiquities 2. 125. 

161. the dogs tooth, nor the Doues. One might easily 
presume that Humphrey is referring to the dog-tooth violet, 

V through his being oblivious to the fact that this flower is 

y y/^ purple in color; however, the conjimction of the dog's tooth 
with the dove's would at least indicate that he has the 
strictly canine article in mind. Moreover, the latter inter- 
pretation is quite in keeping with the absurdity of Humphrey's 
utterances in general. 

163. whipt about with silk. Expensive gloves were usually 
very elaborate aflfairs, made of fine leather or wool, and 

ACT l] Nous 135 

embellished with intricate designs embroidered in silk. Ci 
Beck, Gloves, their Annals, chap. 10. 

166. |\_S. This is probably some glove-dealers trade- ^ j^"' 
mark, by which the price of Homphrcy's gift is indicated. 

167. They cost me three and two pence. Weber says 
that these gloves are very cheap when compared with some 
worn at the time. As a matter of faxXj Humphrey has made 
rather a lavish expenditure. Beck, in Ghoes, their Annals, 
p. 246, instances a great nomber of costly gloves given b}- 
Oxford University to high dignitaries in church and state 
under the Tudors, and in these cases, the price is usuall}- 
below three-and-a-half shillings. 

171. nor 80, nor eo. This hardly seems to be the ordi- 
nary use of the correlatives nor . . . nor, meanii^ neither . . . 
nor. Rather, it looks as though there were here the nega- 
tive of an ordinary colloquial phrase, or so, meaning some- 
thing of the kind, in which case Humphrey's utterance would 
have tibe sense, notUng of the kind, not ai all, no, no. The 
affirmative phrase is employed in Ben Jonson's Every Man 
Out of His Humour 1.1: 'I will take occasion of sending 
one of my suits to the tailor's, to have the pocket repaired, 
or so.^ My interpretation seems to be supported by the fol- 
lowing passage in Nash's Pierce Penmlesse {Wks. 2. 91). 
Nash says that ' the Trades and Traders of the Citie ' oppose 
playhouses, because they surmise 'if there were no Playes, 
they should have all the companie that resort to them bye 
bowzying and beere-bathing in their houses every afternoon. 
Nor so, nor so, good brothers all, for there are other places 
beside where money can bestow itself' 

180. lone hath tost me» In ftirioue blanket. Humphrey's 
figurative expression may have been suggested by an un- 
happy experience in an actual blanket Blanket-tossing was 
a sort of irregular punishment often inflicted for the hu- 
miliation of the victim and the amusement of the spectators. 
Falstaff says of Pistol: 'A rascally slave ! I will toss the rogue 

in a blanket.* 2 Henry IV 2. 4. Sancho Panza is tossed 

in a blanket, Don Quixote, Part 1, chap. 17. Cf Ben Jonson, 
Epicoene 6. 4 : * We'll have our men blanket ' hem i ' the hall* 


136 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act r 

And Dekker, The Guls /fom-Booke, chap. 6 : * You shall dis- 
grace him worse then by tossing him in a blanket* 

184. hartely. The modem eds. spell heartily. I am in- 
clined to regard hartely and heartily as distinct words. Ac- 
cording to N. E. Z>., hartely is a 17th century spelling of 
heartly, an obsolete adverb having practically the same 
meaning as the modem heartily, but separate from it in 
usage. Moreover, it is doubtful whether the modem word 
ever presented the variant spelling of the text However, 
as the meaning is the same whichever reading is chosen, 
it is a matter of small importance. 

188. forsaking of my diet. A rigid course of diet was a 
common sort of treatment in venereal diseases. Cfl 3. 426/ (P 
y^ ^y^' and note. Is Humphrey to be counted among the class of 
j^K,"^ mr\ patients whom Ralph rescues from the barber in Act 3 ? 
I t^ ^ 195. with assurance. The variant reading, ' with full as- 

vjj/^ surance,' was made for the sake of the metre. 

200. take me with you. In Cent. Diet, and Nares' Glossary, 
this phrase is equivalent to let me accompany or follow your 
course of thought, let me understand you. \n the text, however, 
it apparently means hear me out, understand me fully, and 
is so defined by Dyce. It bears the second interpretation 
in Massinger's Plays, ed. Gifford 2. 488, and 3. 66. 

209. Barbarian kind. Barbarian, as here used, is an ob- 
solete term applying to the Saracen countries lying along 
the north coast of Africa. See Glossary. Barbary horses, or 
barbs, are a breed introduced by the Moors into Spain from 
Barbary and Morocco, and remarkable for their speed, en- 
durance, and docility. In Spain this race has greatly de- 
generated, and tme barbs are rare even in their own country. 

218. Waltham Forrest. This was one of the great wood- 
and game-preserves which were established in the early 
history of England. The remnant of it which still exists is 
know as Epping Forest, the portion of the ancient Forest 
of Essex which lies N. and W. of the Roding between the 
town of Epping and Forest Gate, near Stratford. 'In its 
original vmtouched condition, the Forest of Essex appears to 
have stretched across the country from the Forest of Mid- 

ACT i] Notes 137 

dlesex at Waltham to Colchester and the sea . . . Bj grar:^ 
enclosures, and encroachments, the iDrcst nas gradsaZj 
diminished in extent as, with die growth of popEz^atxcL ^k; 
land grew in value, untfl it was Kmited to the S. W. pcetkc 
which then, no longer the Forest of Essex, came to be IcKnm 
as the Forest of Waltham . . . The bouDdaiies of Wa2da=i 
Forest as thus defined [Act of 16 Charles L \^¥i, cxxrpnatd 
twelve parishes wholly within the foresL and 9 parthr wisbci 
it; and included what have since been knovn as Epptag 
and Hainault Forests. The area of die forest, aooordr::)^ to 
a computation made firom their surrey by a C onmrtBio p in 
1793, was in all about "60,000 statute acres, of whkh abocs 
48,000 acres, are the estimated conteats of mriowf ri prirate 
property, and the remaining 12,000 acres, die amoont KAtbe 
enclosed woods and waste&^ Of this mriowf ri land S^Wi 

acres belonged to Epping Forest, 9000 to HaJnanH' Thorat. 

Handbook to The Environs of London L IM. Dann^ t2K 
19th century Hainault was entirely destroyed. EppiogForcst, 
though reduced to considerably leas than half its kfnr^a mut, 
was still, in 1876, an open woocQand of neariy 90W skcref area. 

Waltham or ]^[>ping Forest was always a iiTOfite resort 
of the London citizens. During the last century, it was tbie 
especial recreation-ground for the crowded dislncts of t^^Ea^st 
End. A popular privilege, handed down from the tis-je of 
Henry I, was that accorded to the citizens of hsnting dei^ 
and other game within the forest once a year, on Eaj^U^ 
Monday. This occasion came to be known as tte Eppir^^ 

Some of the scenes of the play, The Merry Devil of Ed- 
monton, anon., 1607, are laid in Waltham Forest 

218. By my fidih and troth. There is an aiy>nyrriOu>, 
epigram, printed by BuDen, Mddleton's Works Z. 22, wbi^.b 
indicates the successive vogue of difEerent oaths : 

In elder times an ancient custome t was 

To swear in weighty matters by the masu, 

But when the masse went downe ye old men noti; 

They swore then by the crosse of this same grote ; 

Then by their £uth the conunon oath was swome ; 

138 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act i 

Last, having swome away all faith and troth. 

Only God damme me was ye common oath. 

This custom kept decormn by g^dation. 

That loosing Masse, Crosse, Faith, they find Donation. 

The passage in The Family of Love 1, 8, upon which 
Bullen makes this annotation, contains practically the same 
list of oaths. 

221. Yaith. Though ordinarily our play has ffaith or V 
faith, the substitution of these forms in the present passage 
by former editors was needless. ^ Faith as an abbreviation 
of the phrase in faith was formerly of frequent occurence. 
Cf. 1. 233. Cf. A Day, English Secretary, 1686, 2. 48 : 'Faiih 
sir . . . tis but as the wiser hold opinion.' 

228. i'le make some 'em smoake for^t. Fll make some of 
them suffer for it C£ TUus Andronicus 4. 8 : 

This maugre all the world will I keepe safe. 
Or some of you shall smoke for it in Rome. 

224. fie, this sianking Tobacco. The literature of the 
time contains a vast number of allusions to the lately acquired 
habit of smoking tobacco. Edmund Howes, in his continu- 
ation of Stowe's Annals, ed. 1881, p. 1088, says : ' Tobacco 
was first brought and made known in England by Sir John 
Hawkins about the year 1665, but not used by E^lishmen 
in many years after.' Sir Walter Raleigh is generally ac- 
credited with having made the use of it fashionable. 

The public was divided into two hostile camps ^the smokers 

and the non-smokers. In our play the Wife, as we see, plants 
herself stoutly on the side of the opposition. The most con- 
spicuous opponent of the new habit was the king, James L 
His celebrated Counterblaste to Tobacco (published in Arber's 
Reprints) is an arrogant and fiiribund diatribe, quite devoid 
of judgment or logic, but very amusing. He concludes in 
this fashion: 'A custom lothsome to the eye, hatefiil to the 
nose, harmefuU to the braine, dangerous to the Lungs, and 
in the black stinking fimie thereof neerest resembling the 
horrible Stigian smoke of the pit that is bottomless.' 

Among the devotees of the weed, smoking became so much 
the fad as to be taught and practised as an art There were 

ACT i] Noies 139 

regular places of instmction tlirotigfa€Kit London, particnlariy 
the shops of druggists, where adepts gave traimng in this 
' noble art ' to social aspirants who wished to be property 
equipped for appearance in fiishionable resorts. The gallants 
looked upon the ability to smoke gracefiilly as one of the 
first marks of a gentleman. 

Smoking in all parts of the andienre of the early theatres 
was very common. Inourplay the Wife addresses the gallants 
on the stage. The dandies* diqday of their accomplishments 
in the art was espeaaiSiy offensive and ridicoloos at the 
theatre. Ben Jonson takes occasion to satinze h in Cyfithia's 
Revels, Induction. In The Scornful Lady 1. 2, the riotous 
companions of young Loveless are qx>ken of as fellows ' that 
wear swords to reach fire [L e. strike their lights], at a play. 
and get there the oiled end of a pipe for their gnerdon.' 

An adequate treatment of the general subject of tobacco, 
with a special chapter on its literary coimections, is Fairholt's 
Tobacco: Its History and Associations, London, 1859. 

225. meiL 'me] 'So Sjrmpson rightly printed "firom the 
conjecture of an unknown firiend." Old eds. ''men^; which 
the later editors absurdly gave.' ^Dyce. 

226-8. The variants should be consulted for an intelli- 
gible rendering of these exceedingly comq>t lines. Dyce gives 
the only completely rational punctuatioiL 

228. make chinmeyB a your faces. One is reminded of 
the impression of Paul Hentzner, a German, traveling in 
England in 1598, who i^>eaks of the constant custom of 
smoking at Bear Gardens and other public places. He says : 
'At these spectacles, and everywhere else, the English are 
constantly smoking tobacco, and in this maimer: They have 
pipes on purpose, made of clay, into the farther end of which 
they put the herb, so dry that it may be rubbed into powder, 
and putting fire to it, they draw the smoke into their mouths, 
which they puff out again, through their nostrils, like funnels/ 
—A Journey into England. {Augervylk Soc. Reprints, p. 28;. 

230. like a Grooer in's ahop. That is, in coat, surcoat, and 
blue apron, as distinguished firom the grocers' livery which 
was worn on state occasions. Cf Ind. 97, and note. I am 

I40 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act i 

inclined to think that the Wife e]^)ected Ralph to appear 
in the state paraphernalia of the grocers. Otherwise her 
joyous anticipation of seeing him in his finery (Lid. 99) would 
have been pointless. 

231. Beading Palmerin of England. From the next note 
it will be seen that this is a mistake, since Ralph reads out 
of Palmerin de Oliva; but, as Weber remarks, this must either 
be an inadvertence of the author, or an intentional mistake, 
as Palmerin of England is again mentioned at 1. 269. 

Palmerin de Oliva is the first, at least considered in re- 
lation to the order of events, of a famous series of romances 
which is concerned with the imaginary history of the Palmerin 
family. It first appeared in Spanish, and was printed at 
Salamanca in 1511. During the 16th century, a number 
of impressions in Spanish and French were published. The 
romance was translated into English by Antony Munday. The 
first part of this version was published in 1588, the second 
in 1597, both in black letter. The fiill title is Palmerin D* Oliva, 
or the Honorable Historie of Palmerin UOlrua. ConHmting 
his rare fortunes, Knightly deeds of Chivalry, happy successe 
in love, and how he was crowned Emperor of Constantinople, 
Herein is likewise concluded the variable troubles of the Prince 
Trineus, and f aire Agricola the Kings daughter of England: 
with their fortunate marriage. 

235-49. Then . . . me. The passage is condensed bom 
chap. 51 of the first part of Munday's translation of Palmerin 
de Oliva. The chapter is entitled 'How the Queene of 
England, and Agricola her daughter were in danger to be 
ravished by the Giant Franarco, and of the succour they 
had, by Trineus, Palmerin, and Ptolme* Palmerin, the hero 
of the romance, and his friend Ptolme, have accompanied 
Trineus, the Prince of Allmaigne, to England, and because 
of the love of Trineus for the English princess, Agricola, 
they have fought with the English army in a victorious battle 
against the King of the Scots, whom the father of Trineus, 
the Emperor of Allmaigne, has befiiended. The brother of 
Franarco has been slain in the battle by Palmerin, and the 
giant attempts to wreak the vengeance which is indicated 

ACT i] Notes 141 

by the heading of the chapter. Smce the adventure is highly 
characteristic of the romances of chivalry, so far as they are 
the object of satire in our play, I here transcribe a large 
part of the account of it : 

*The king returning from his chase with his Company, 
little minding any imfortunate event, and conferring with 
Palmerin, till they drew nere vnto their Tents: at length 
they heard a great Tumult, and behold a Squire making 
towards them, so fast as his horse could gallop. Palmerin 
doubting some vnhappy chance, and remembering his dreame 
said to the king: Neuer credit me my Lord, tf the Squire 
come not to you about some speciall a£faires, as well may be 
gathered by his speedy pace. At these words the Gentle- 
man came to the King, reporting how the Giant Franarco, 
Lord of the castle of Carbones, since his departure came to 
the tents, and from thence had violently taken the Queene 
and her daughter Agricola, notwithstanding the resistance of 
many Knights, who striuing to defend her, lost their lines. 
The King with these words, stroken in wonderfiill griefe, said, 

Ah Gentleman, this villainous Traytor hath notoriously 
wronged vs: How is it possible to recover them againe, 
before they be dishonered : Trineus and Palmerin moued at 
these bad newes, asked the Squire which way he went with 
the Queene and her daughter : In truth my Lord (quoth he) 
I cannot tell you which way he tooke, we all were so 
troubled and misused by his Traine : except they went along 
the Forrest, and so are gone to the next village. Then 
Palffterin clasping on his Helmet, and snatching his Lance 
from his Dwarf e, galloped amaine after the Giant, not speak- 
ing a word Trineus, who accompanied with Ptolome, rode 
apace after him, and as they passed by the Queenes Tent, 
they saw the Ladies and the Gentlemen heauly lamenting, 
especially Eufemia, the chiefs companion to the Princesse 
Agricola. Diners knights beside armed themselves to pursue 
the Giant but Trineus not a little enraged, followed the 
tracks of the horse, demanding of all he met if they saw 
the Villain that had stolne away the Ladies. . . . Trineus 
hauing gotten the sight of them, came posting to the Giant, 

142 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act i 

saying. Stay trayterous iheife,for thou mayest not so carry 
her away, that is worthy of the greatest Lord in the world. 
With these words they ran fiercely together, Trineus giuing 
the Giant a sore wound on the shouldier, as he f el from his 
horse with hals vpward. Palmerin being not £ur off| and 
doubting least the Prince had bin slain, came in a great 
rage to Franarco, saying: Monstrous enemy to manhood, 
what maketh thee so fancy to lay violent hands on Ladyes 
of such account: By my sword villaine, I shall make thee 
barely to pay for thy folly. So couching their lances they 
met together, the Giant fayling, and their horses roughly 
shouldring one another, as their Masters were both thrown 
to the groimd, Franarco (being heavy and vnwieldy) had 
such a fall, as easily he could not recover himselfe. But 
Palmerin nimbly getting vp againe, gaue the Giant such a 
wound on his right legge, as the flesh hung downe pitti- 
fiilly to behold The Giant not being able to stand any 
longer on that Legge, set his knee to the ground, being glad 
to defend the strokes of Palmerin, who reached him such 
a sound blow on the forehead, with the hilts of his sword, 
as the Giant fel on his back, when Palmerin soon setting 
his foote on his breast, with his sword diuided his head 
from his shouldiers. Dining this fight, Trineus and Ptolome 
made after the Queene and her daughter whom the Gyants 
Knights drove cruelly before them. 

Now was it matter well worthy memory, to see the braue 
behauiour of these two knights, but chiefly of Trineus before 
his sweete Mistresse, whose presence endued him with such 
exceeding courage, as he thought himself able to conquer 
the Whole world, and therefore sufficient for them all, were 
they as many more in number. But strength doth not alwa^'s 
equal courage, and Louers think more then they are able 
to doe, as to Trineus perill it had now fsdlen out, but that 
a company of the Kings Knights pursued, whereupon began 
a hot encounter betweene them, and Trineus camming to 
the Knight that had Agricola behind him, set him soon beside 
his horse, with his knecke broken his fall, so thai the Prin- 
cesse getting forth of the throng, and seeing her beloved so 

ACT i] Notes 143 

valiant in prowesse, betweene joy and griefe, she said: Ah 
happy Knight, the myrrour of such asfolhm Armes, I desire 
thy high Fortune may proue, as thou and thy good com- 
pany may haue victory ouer these Traytors. Now may I 
be well assured of the Loue thou bearest me: for which . . . 
perswade thy selfe not to passe vnrecompenced.' The re- 
maining Jmights of the giant press once more upon Trineus, 
who is upon the point of being slain, when he is rescued 
by the King and Pahnerin. The traitorous knights are put 
to death, and their bodies burned along with that of their 
chie£ Then the royal party returns to court 

287-9. Pahnerin • . . came postiiig amaine, Baying. Ralph 
reads inaccurately. It is Trineus who makes the speech, as 
may be seen in the passage quoted above. 

242. he crtroake him besides his Elephant. In the original 
text the giant was thrown, not firom an elephant, but from 
his horse. C£ the passage quoted above. The alteration 
is no doubt intentionally made to illustrate the absurd 
fashion of introducing beasts of the tropics into tales whose 
setting is that of northern Europe. 

244. set him scone besides his horse. This is a recurrent 
expression in old romances, used to indicate that the de- 
feated knight has been unhorsed. Similarly, in chap. 21 of 
Part 1 of Palmerin de Oliva, it is said that Pahnerin 'laid 
so lustily on a knight as he set him quickly besides his 

247. all happy Knight. This singular expression springs 
from an oversight of the authors; or perhaps they are in- 
tentionally causing Ralph to blunder. In Munday's trans- 
lation the phrase is, 'Ah happy Knight' C£ passage quoted 

247. the mirror of all such as follow Armes. One need 
only to recall the English title oiEspeio de Caballerias, viz., 
The Mirrour of Knighthood, and a sub-title of Palmerin de 
Oliva itself, viz., The Mirror of Nobility, &c, to realize 
that the hero of romance was extensively described as a 
glass, wherein all knightly virtues were reflected Don 
Quixote is spoken of as *the light and mirror of all Manchical 

144 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act i 

chivalry/ ' the mirror of all knighthood ;' also, as ' the flower 
and cream of gentility, the shadow and remedy of the 
afflicted, and the quintessence of knights-errants.' 

249. me. The quotation ends here, as the modem editors 
have noted. Cf. variants, 1. 235-49. The remaining portion 
of Ralph's speech is his personal deduction from the in- 
cident read. 

251. as big as the Army that the Prince of Portigo 
brought against Bosicler. * There were characters in the 
celebrated Espeio de Caballerias, one of the romances con- 
demned by the curate in Dan Quixote to the flames. The 
first part, consisting of two books, and written by Diego 
Ortunez, was printed in 1562. A second part, also divided 
into two books, by Pedro de la Sierra, was published in 
1580. The third and fourth parts, each consisting of two 

books, were written by Marcos Martinez.* ^Weber. The 

whole work was translated into English in nine parts, the last 
printed in 1602, under the title of The Mirrour of Knight- 
hood . . . The Mirrour of Princely Deeds and Knighthood, 
wherein is shewed the worthinesse of the Knight of the Sunm, 
and his brother Rosicler, 6^. Cfl Introd., p. LXVIIL 

The only copy of the romance which I have found available 
in America is a French version preserved in the Boston 
Public Library under the title of L* Admirable Historie Du 
Chevalier Du SoleiL Ou Sont Racontees Les Immortelles 
proUesses de ce't invincible Guerrier, <S» de sonfrere Rosiclair, 
enfans du grand Empereur de Constantinople. Avec les Ex- 
ploits Genereux, <$• ks avantures Amoureuses de la belle & 
vaillante Princesse Claridiane, <S» autres grands Se^neurs, 
Ouvrage qui sert de Miroir d tous Princes <S» Chevaliers. 
Traduite en nostre language par Francois de Rosset. Paris. 
Chez Mathieu Guillemot, rui' S. lacques au coin de la rui de 
la Parche minerie. M.DC.XLII1. This version consists of 
eight octavo volumes, containing from 300 to 600 pages each. 

In the French version, there is no mention of an army 
brought against Rosicler by the Portugese prince. This latter 
personage is of subordinate importance, and is not brought 
into collision with the heroes. The only episode in which 

ACT i] Notes 145 

armies play an extensive part is at the condusion of the 
third volume, when the hosts of many Christian princes 
assemble at Constantinople to wage war against the infidels. 
Ralph is apparently confused in his allusion to the romance. 

255. for they say the King of Portugal! cannot ait at 
his meate, &c. This incident is not contained in the Mirror 
of Knighthood, as might be suggested by Ralph's reference 
to that romance in the preceding speech. 

263. to relieue poors ladies. The law of chivalry whereby 
a knight was boimd to 'relieue poor ladies' is indicated in 
Palmertn of England^ Part 1, chap. 34 : ' As soon as she 
saw him, she rode up to him, saying. Sir, as you reg^d 
the honour of knighthood, help to defend me from this 
wretch that seeks to dishonor me. He, seeing a knight 
coming after her, who was well armed and bravdy mounted 
rode up to meet him, saying, I perceive both knighthood 
and that armour is ill bestowed upon you, that employ yoiu:- 
self in the persecution of a damsel, when yovu* are both 
bound by duty, and by law of arms, to defend her.' In 
Amadis, Bk. 1, chap. 33, we read : ' The boon I ask is this, 
said Brisena, that ye always defend dames and damsels from 
all wrong ; and if by chance you have made promise of two 
suits, one to a man, the other to a woman, you shall ac- 
complish the woman's request first, as being the weakest 
person, and who hath most need to be holpen. Thus shall 
women travel more safely along the highways, and discourt- 
eous and cruel men shall fear to offer them force or injury.' 

265. our Knights neglect their possessionB weU enough, 
hat they do not the rest. The honor of knighthood was 
often piurchased from King James, and the character of 
the order so formed is frequently sneered at by old writers. 
Cf. Hans Beer Pot, 1816: 

Twas strange to see what knighthood once would do, 

Stir great men up to lead a martiall life, 

Such as were nobly bom of great estates, 

To g^ain this honoiu: and this dignity, 

So noble a mark to their prosperity. 

But now, alas! it's grown ridiculous, 

146 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act i 

Since l)ought with money, sold for basest prize, 
That some refuse it which are counted wise. 

Palmerin of 'g«gl*^nH. The hero of the romance of 
the same name. The tale is of Spanish and Portugese origin, 
and belongs to the second £aunily chronicle carried on in 
the romances of the Peninsula. The first is concerned with 
the fortunes of Amadis of Gaul and his descendants. Pal- 
merin de Oliva, to which notice has already been given, 
begins the series. It is followed by the romance of Prima- 
leon, son of Palmerin de Oliva and Polinardo. Lastly comes 
the history of Palmerin of England, son to Don Duardos, 
Prince of England, and Florida, daughter of the Emperor 
Palmerin de Oliva. The earliest extant edition of PcUmerin 
of England was written in Spanish, and was published at 
Toledo in 1547. Recent investigations have proved this print 
to be a translation of an original Portugese version by Fran- 
cisco de Moraes, which was written about 1544. C£ C.Micha- 
elis de VasconceUos and T.Braga, Grundriss der Romanischen 
Philologie, 1897, 2. 334, and W. E. Purser, Palmerin cf 
England, 1904. Next to Amadis of Gaul, Palmerin of Eng- 
land is the most meritorious of the Peninsular romances, 
and in England it long retained its popularity. An English 
version of the tale was entered 13 Feb., 1581, but no perfect 
copy earlier than Anthony Munday*s translation from the 
French in 1602 is known to exist Cf. Introd., p. LXVin. 

277. flappet of wood. Ralph refers to the grocer's counter. 
Cf. Glossary. 

277. blew apron. Worn by tradesmen. Sometimes the 
term blue apron was used substantively to specify a trades- 
man. Blue garments, especially blue coats, were a common 
badge of servitude. Ben Jonson, in his Masque of Christ- 
mas^ describing the habits of his characters, mad^es this stage- 
entry for one of them: "New Years' Gift, in a blew coat 
like a servingman." Howe, the continuator of Stowe's ^ima&, 
tells us (p. 1039) that * in the reign of Mary, and the be- 
ginning of Queen Elizabeth's, all the apprentices in London 
wore blue cloaks in the simmier, and in the winter blue 
gowns ; but it was not lawful for any man, who was a servant. 

ACT I] Notes 147 

to have his gown lower than to the calves of his legs, ex- 
cept he were upward of 60 years of age : but as the length 
of their doaks was not limited, they used to wear them so 
long that they reached down to their heels.' 

278. Xethridatam and Dragona water. Dekker, speaking 
of the fearfiil plague of 1603, says : ' This intelligence runs 
currant, that every house lookt like S Bartholomewes Hos- 
pitall, and every streete like Buclersbury, for poor Methre- 
datum and Dragonwater (being both of them in all the world, 
scarce worth three-pence) were bort in every comer, and 

yet were both drunke every hovu-e at other men's cost' 

The IVondetful Year (IVks. 1. 112). Faith in the value of 
both these specifics resulted from the radical superstitions 
of the time. 

Mithridate, or mithridatum, was a medical compound sup- 
posed to serve either as antidote or preservative against 
poison and the plague. The name was derived from Mithri- 
dates VI, King of Pontus, who was supposed to have so 
charged himself with the poisons with which he experimented 
that he acquired an immunity from all of them. C£ the 
speech of the poisoned emperor, Vakniinian 6. 2 : 

What can your doses do now, and your scrapings, 
Your oils, and mithridates? 

Dragon-water is defined in Nares' Glossary as * a medicinal 
remedy which appears to have been very popular in the 
earUerhalfofthe I7'th century.' Cfc Taylor's Works, 1630: 

And triacles powder is wonderously exprest, 
And dragon-water in most high request. 

Cf. Dekker and Webster's Westward Ho S. S: *Ran into 
Buckleberry for two ounces of dragon-water.^ I find no 
mention of dragon- water in medical reference-books. Weber's 
suggestion that the term is a substitute for dragon's-blood 
seems plausible, dragon's-blood being an extract from certain 
tropical plants which is sometimes used as a tonic and an 
astringent; his conclusion, however, that Ralph is simply 
making a ludicrous mistake is invalidated by the serious 
employment of the term in the passages cited. 


148 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act i 

Grocers did not merely sell drugs ; the Grocers* Company 
was entrusted with the commission of garbling and examining 
drugs and spices, &c., sold within the city. There is a 
copy of the original document, granting this privilege, in 
the appendix to Heath's Account of the Grocers* Company, 
p. 892. It was made under Henry VI, 1447. 

279. to visited honses. 'That is, to houses visited by 
the plague.* Weber. Cf. Ben Jonson, The Alchemist 6. 1 : 

Fare, The house, sir, has been visited. 
Love. What, with the plague? 

The old dramatists repeatedly allude to the fearful visi- 
tations of the Plague or Blade Death which swept over 
Europe during the 16 th and 17 th centuries. The most £Bital 
of them all was that of 1603, when the mortality in London 
alone reached 38,000. During the years immediately suc- 
ceeding 1603 the epidemic gradually abated, and in 1610, 
the year of our play's production, it had practically died 
out, not to reappear imtil 1626. C£ Creighton, History of 
Eptdemics 1. 493: * There was little plague in 1604, and 
not much in 1605; but in 1606 the infection again became 
active, and continued at its endemic level for some five or 
six years.* 

280. through his noble atchienments procure saeh a 
famous history to be written. Don Quixote, it will be re- 
called, muses at length upon his posthumous renown, to be 
enshrined in 'a true history of his funous acts' (Bk. 1, 
chap. 2). 

288. I doe not call to minde that I yet read of a Ghrocer 
Errant. Apparentiy Ralph has not read The Four Prentices 
of London, in which are related the adventures of the gro- 
cer's boy, Eustace, who becomes a knight The Citizen is 
better informed than Ralph; cf. 4. 66-8. 

289. haue you heard of any that hath wandred vn- 
ftimished of his Squire and Dwarfe? Amadis of Gaul is 
usually accompanied by his squire Gandalin and his dwarf 
Ardian. Palmerin de Oliva's regular attendant is his dwarf 
Urbanillo, but he is sometimes followed by a number of 

ACTi] Notes 149 

esquires. Neither Palmerin of England nor Don Quixote has 
more than a squire. C£ Introd, pp. XXXVI— VDI. 

291. my elder Prentice Tim shall be my tmsty Squire. 
Service as a squire was ordinarily a stepping-stone to knight* 

hood. *The youth more usually remained an esquire 

the next step to that of a page ^till he was twenty. He 

attended the knight to whose person he was attached, dressed 
and undressed him, trained his horses, kept his arms bright 
and burnished, and did the honours of the household to the 
strangers who visited it; so that Spencer takes the squire 

as the type of such courtesy.* Sir C. Strachey, Introduction 

to Morte Darthur. 

293. yet in remembrance of my former Trade, vpon my 
ahiled shall be pnrtraide, a burning Pestle. 'This is in 
ridicule of Eustace, in He3rwood*s Four Prentices of London, 
bearing the grocer's arms upon his shield.' ^Weber. Eu- 
stace, who is a grocer's apprentice, says: 

For my trade's sake, if good success I have. 
The Grocer's Arms shall in mine ensign wave. 

The representation of a burning pestle upon Ralph's shield 
is indeed a travesty on the elaborate design of the grocers' 
arms. 'Their arms,' says Maitland, 'are, argent a chevron, 
gules, between six cloves in chief and three in base, sable ; 
crest, a helmet and torse, a loaded camel trippant proper, brid- 
led of the second, two grifSns perfess gules and or ; motto, 
" God grant thee grace." ' New View of London 2. 207. 

295. cal'd the Knight oth burning Pestle. It was usual 
for knights to derive their name from some function, achieve- 
ment, or trait which characterized them. Gayton says of 
Don Quixote, otherwise called the Knight of the Ill-favour'd 
Face, Festivous NoUs Upon Don Quixote, p. 99 : * It is usual 
for Knights and Dons Errant to take appellative names 
from their successes, places of Birth, Conquest or Favour. 
... He stiles himselfe of the IH-favoured Face, not im- 
properly, nor ferre fetcht' The Don himself says: *It 
hath seemed fit to the wise man, to whose charge is left 
the writing of my history, that I take some appellative name, 

1 50 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act i 

as all the other knights of yore have done ; for one called 
himself the Knight of the Burning Sword; another that of 
Unicom; this, him of the Phoenix; the other, that of the 
Damsels ; another the Knight of the Griffin ; and some other, 
the Knight of Death ; and by these names and devices they 
were known throughout the compass of the earth. And so 
I say, that the wise man whom I mentioned set in thy mind 
and tongue the thought to call me the Kuight of the Dl- 
iavoured Face, as I mean to call myself henceforth; and 
that the name may become me better, I will, upon the first 
occasion, cause to be painted in my shield a most ill-iavoured 
countenance ' (Bk. 3, chap. 5). 

301-6. Bight GoorteouB and Valiant Knight . . . dis- 
tressed Damsell. These chivalric terms of address may be 
partially illustrated fi-om Palmerin de Oliva, Part 1, chap. 21 : 
'Faire Virgin (saide Palmerin) doo not discomfort yoursel£ 
but shew me which way they rode that dealt with you so 
discourteously. Gentk Knight (quoth she) if your hap be 
to restore my losse againe, you doe the most gracious acte 
that euer Knight did for a distressed Damosel. , , . And may 
all happinesse repay this gentle daede, Ftiyre Knight,* In- 
stances of the use of the formula fair lady are innumerable. 
It is perhaps needless to say that Ralph is made to exaggerate 
the sufficiently ceremonious manner in which the knights 
themselves were addressed. Isolated epithets, like fair, 
courteous, gentle, are habitually applied to them, but seldom 
will one find such a sounding and lengthy designation as 
that which Ralph demands for himself 

305. that you call all Forrests & Heaths Desarts. A 
somewhat extreme demand. Don Quixote and the ro- 
mances have both forests and deserts. Indeed, the two 
words are sometimes joined : Palmerin of England's brother 
Florian is called Florian of the Desert, because the forest 
wherein he was bom was called the Desert Forest 

306. and all horses Palfries. A reference to the passage 
quoted above will show that Ralph is somewhat excited, for 
even the old romancers sometimes called a spade a spade: 
the giant Franarco ' fel from his horse,^ and ' the knight that 

ACT i] Notes 151 

had Agricola behind him ' was soon set ' besides his horse' 
The steeds, however, which carry * distressed,' or other * dam- 
sels,' are ahnost invariably called palfreys. 

809. the PUiers would giue all the ahooes in their shop 
for him. The Citizen is thinking of the shoes in the players' 
dressing-room, known as the tiring-house. C£ Ind. 97, 
and note. 

811—14. admit • . . what would you say? This is a con- 
ventional mode of interrogation in the romances. Cf. Pat- 
tnerin of England, Bk. 1, chap. 86 : ' Admit (quoth the damsel) 
myself would be the means to provide you all of horses and 
armour again, would you grant the boon I should put forth 
unto you?' 

812. a Desart^ and ouer it a Knight errant pricking. 
One is instantly reminded of the first verse of The Faerie 

A gentle knight was pricking o'er the plain. 

Gayton remarks in satirical vein: 'This order of Knight er- 
rantry is very ancient, when there were but three persons 
in the World, one was of this Order, even Cai% who for 
the murther of his Brother was a Fugitive and a Vagabond 
over the whole earth, a larger extent than oiu: Dons peregri- 
nations; he had beside this marke another like to our 
Knight-errantSy that none should slay him, for you never 
read of a Knight^errant that was slaine in the whole world.' 
Festivous Notes Upon Don Quixote, p. 9. 

The Don himself follows tradition in looking upon King 
Arthur as the chief instigator and exemplar of knight-er- 
rantry. 'In this good king's time was first instituted the 
famous order of knighthood of the Knights of the Roimd 
Table, . . . and fi'om diat time forward, the order of knight 
went fi-om hand to hand, dilating and spreading itself through 
many and sundry parts of the world ' (Bk. 2, chap. 5). 

828. a halfe penny-worth of pepper. Pepper was for a 
long time the chief commodity in which the grocers dealt, 
and, according to Herbert, their license to deal in it is still 
obliged to be especially inscribed over the doors of the shops. 

152 The Knighi of the Burning Pestle [act i 

Indeed, the Grocers trace their descent and origin from an 
amalgamation between the Pepperers of Soper's Lane and 
the Spicers of Cheap in 1345. This miion led to the adop- 
tion of the more comprehensive name, ' which,' says Hazlitt, 
* obviously signifies engrosser, or dealer in miscellaneous ar- 
ticles of consumption.' Livery Companies of London^ p. 188. 

886. tme man. 'That is, an honest man, generall used 

in opposition tho thief.' ^Weber. Nares cites the following 


Whither away so fast? 
A true man, or a thie^ that gallops thus? 

Lov^s Labouf^s Losi 4, 3. 

The thieves have bound the true men. 

/ Henry IV 2. 2. 

We will not wrong thee so 
To make away a true man for a t&e£ 

Edward II, Dodsley's Old Plays 2. 362. 

349. A merry heart lineB long-a. 'Resembles a line in 
the first verse of "Jog on, jog on the foot-path way," Ac, 
a song printed in An Antidote against Mekmcholy^ &c. 1661, 

p. 73.' ^Dyce. This song is not at hand, but according 

to Dyce the first verse of is it sung by Autolycus in the 
Winter's Tale 4. 3: 

Jog on, jog on, the footpath way. 

And merrily hent the stile-a: 
A merry heart goes all the day, 

Yovu- sad tires in a mile-a. 

372. halter-sacke. Cf. Four Plays in One: 'Thy begin- 
ning was knap-sack, and thy ending will be halter-sack J Also, 
cf. A King and No King 2. 2: * Away, you halter-sack, you.' 
' Haltersack. A term of reproach equivalent to hang-dog. 
Minshew writes it haUersick, and explains it, "One whom 
the gallows groans for." Coles has, " One halter-sick, nebulo 
egregius." . . . Mr. Seward also conjectured haUersick. These 
conjectures may be right; but fi^m the incongruity of 
calling a person halter-sick, before the halter has ap- 
proached hhn, I rather think that halter-sack meant, that the 

ACTi] Notes 153 

person so called was doomed to hang upon a halter, like 

a sack.' ^Nares, Glossary. N. E. D. agrees with Nares. 

383. Nose, nose, icily red nose, and who gaue ihee tliis 
ioUy red nose ? ' These and the next two lines sung by 
Merrythought are taken from a song (No. 7) in Ravens- 
croft's Deuieromelia, 1609, beginning, 

" Of all the birds that euer I see, 
the Owle is the fayrest," &c. 

where they stand thus: 

"Nose« nose, nose, nose, 

and who gaue thee that iolly red nose? 

Sinamont and ginger, Nutmegs and Qoves, 
and that gaue me my iolly red nose."' 


386. carke and care. ' To Cark. To be careful or thought- 
fuL It is often joined with lo care, as if not perfectly synon- 

" Why knave, I say, have I thus cark'd and cav^d^ 
And all to keep thee like a gentleman?" 

Lord Cromwell, Sh. Supp., U. 377. 

" In times past neither did I labor, carcke, nor care. 
For business, for £aunily, for foode, nor yet for &re." 

North's /%#/., p. 392, E.' Nares, Glossary. 

386. and all little encoglL And not as much as the case 
warrants. Cf. Prologue to The Four Prentices of London : 
* Three prologues to our Play ? pardon me, we have need 
of three hundred me thinkes, and all little enough.^ 

403. at eleuen & six a dccke. 'These were the dinner 
and supper hours of our ancestors, when this play was 

written.' Weber. In The IVonum-Hater 1. 2, Lazarillo 

directs a boy to hasten to spy out what is being cooked 
for dinner. The boy replies : ' I run ; but not so £Eist as your 
mouth will do upon the stroke of eleven.^ Cf. Ben Jensen's 
The Case is AUered 2. 3: 

Eat when your stomach serves, saith the physician. 
Not at eleven and six. 

1 54 The Knighi of the Burning Pestle [act i 

InDekker's Dead Term {IVks. 4. 60), we read : * What layinge 
of heads is there together and sifting of the braine, still and 
anon, at is growes towards eleven of the Clocke (euen amongst 
those that weare guilt Rapiers by their sides) where for tiiat 
noone they may shift from Duke Humfrey, & bee ftimished 
with a Dinner at some meaner mans Table.' 

413. by Ladie. * i. e, by our Lady, a common form. 

Altered by the modem editors to "by'r Lady."* ^Dyce. 

C£ Every Woman in her Humour, 1609: 

A teadious time, by Lady; a month were enough. 
C£ also Guy Earl of Warwick, a Tragedy, 1661 : 

Ha, ha, the world's well amended with me, by Lady, 

413. hold thee there. Adhere rigidly to, 'stick to,' your 
opinion. The reflexive use of hold in this sense is not no- 
ticed in the dictionaries. 

434. foule chine him. May ill luck befaU him. A rare 
old. phrase. Cf. Sir A Cockain, Obstinate Lady, 1657, 3. 2 : 
* Foul cheeve him for it' * " 111 mote he cheve " is in Chaucer. 
Cheve, chieve, and chive, are only different forms of the same 
word, chevir, old French; and still existing here as a pro- 
vincial word, to prosper.' ^Nares, Glossary. 

455. but yet or ere you part (oh cmell). 'Varied from 
part of the first verse of a song (No. 15) printed in Thefrsi 
Booke of Songes or Ayres of foure parts with Tableture for 
the LuU, &c., 1597, by Dowland: 

" Wilt thou, unkind, thus reaue me of my heart 

and so leaue me? 
Farewell; but yet or ere I part (O cruell) 

Kiss me sweete, my Jewell " ' Dyce. 

For the use of the phrase or ere, meaning before, c£ 
Lear 2. 4 : 

I have frill cause of weeping ; but this heart 
Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws. 
Or ere I'll weep. 

C£ also Swinburne, Cent, Roundels, 23: 

These, or ever man was, were. 

ACT i] Notes 155 

478. Boy danceth. Gosson, the Puritan, tells us that a 
theatrical entertainment in the time of Elizabeth was di- 
versified through the wiles of the devil, who 'sendeth in 
garish apparell, masques, vaulting, tumbling, dancing of 
gigges, galiardes, morisces, hobby-horses, shewing of juggling 
castes, . . . nothing forgot, that might serve to set out the 
matter with pompe, or ravish the beholders with variety of 

pleasure.' Playes confuted in Five Actions, reprinted in 

Hazlitt's Drama and Stage. 

According to Malone in his Shakespeare (BosweU 8. 140), 
in the time of Shakespeare there was a great deal of 
extemporaneous buffoonery on the part of the clown, who 
soUcited the attention of the audience by singing and dancing 
between the acts, and either by a song or metrical jig at 
close of the play. 

Beaumout says, in his lines to Fletcher on The Faithful 
Shepherdess : 

Nor want there those, who, as the boy does dance 
Between the acts, will censure the whole play. 

We learn from Paul Hentzner that the dancing was ac- 
companied by music. Cf. A Journey into England {Augervylk 
Soc. Reprints, p. 28). 

481. They say, 'tis present death for these fidlers to 
tone their Rebeckes before the great Turkes grace. The 
Wife probably refers to an episode in some romance or 
ballad. I have been unable to trace the allusion. 

482. Rebeckes. 'Rebec. A Moorish word, signifying an 
instrument with two strings, played on with a bow. The 
Moors brought the Rebec into Spain ; whence it passed into 
Italy, and after the addition of a third string, obtained the 
name of Rebecca ; whence the old English Rebec, or fiddle 
with three strings.' Moore, Encyclopaedia of Music. 

The instrument was the parent of the viol and the violin. 
It was used throughout western Europe in the Middle Ages. 
It was sometimes employed in the state bands. At the time 
of ovu" play it was used also, as is made evident by the 
context here, to accompany dancing. After the invention 

1 56 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act n 

of the viol and violin, the rebec was banished from the 
city, but it long remained popular at country festivals. Hence 
Milton's mention of the 'jocund rebeck' played at the rural 
dance in L* Allegro. 

486. ride the wild maie. Dyce quotes from Douce's lUus- 
irations of Shakespeare 1. 458 a passage in which it is main- 
tained that riding the wild mare is another name for the 
childish sport of see-saw. 

In 2 Henry IV 2. 4, Falstafi speaks of Poins as one who 
^ rides the wild-nugre with the boys.' 

490. Oodfl . * The editors of 1778 and Weber printed 

** God's woumtSf^^ without informing their readers that the 
latter word is not in the old editions.' Dyce. 

490. and. Modem editions read an. Cf. 1. 66. and note. 

491. periwigs. The performers of male characters fre- 
quently wore periwigs, which in the age of Shakespeare 
were not in common use. Cf. Hamlet 3. 2 : ' O, it offends 
me to the soul, to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear 
a passion to tatters.' C£ Every Woman in Her Humour, 
1609: 'A none wear hoods but monks and ladies, . . . and 
none periwigs but players and pictures.' 

Act II. 

28. red roaring lion. The ancient custom of distinguishing 
taverns, not by worded, but by figured, signboards often 
led to curious combinations of images, articles, and colors. 
' We may mention incidentally, the Bull and Mouth, the Bull 
and Gate, the Belle Sauvage, the Goat and Compasses, the 
Cat and Fiddle, the Cock and Pie, the Cock and Bottle, the 
Goat in Boots, the Swan with Two Necks, the Bag of Nails, 
the Pig and Whistle, the George and Vulture, the Bolt in 
Tun, the Bear and Harrow, the Elephant and Castle. Our 
streets are filled with Blue Boars, Black Swans, and Red 

Lions, not to mention Flying Pigs and Hogs in Armour.' 

Frasev^s Magazine, cited by Brand, P6p. Antiq. 2. 367. 

Acrn] Notes 157 

'Since pictorial or carved signs have fallen into disuse, 
and only names given, . . . The Red Lion is by for the most 
common; doubtless it originated with the badge of John of 
Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, married to Constance, daughter 
of Don Pedro the Cruel, king of Leon and Castille. The 
duke bore the lion rampant gules of Leon as his cognizance, 
to represent his claim to the throne of Castille, when that 
was occupied by Henry de Trastamare. In after years it 
may often have been used to represent the lion of Scotland.' 
Larwood and Hotten, History of Signboards, p. 120. 

29. In Waltham aitaate. Harrison names in *a table of 
the best thorow£sdres and townes of greatest travell in Eng- 
land, in some of which there are twelve or sixteen innes 

at the least' Description of England, p. 416 (in Holin- 

shed's Ckronicks, ed. 1807, London). 

81. The fatale aisters. The Three Fates. 

44. within the wals of London. Cf. Ind. 8, and note. 

45. the Snbnrbes. The suburbs were the districts lying 
immediately outside the walls of the city. Here the citizens 
had their pleasure-resorts. These were places where intrigues 
and many disorderly projects were carried on. Most of the 

inhabitants of the suburbs were a ruffianly class thieves, 

murderers, and every mischief-maker, among whom Hum- 
phrey would have had small honor in finding an equal in 
" fedr speech." C£ Stow, Survey, pp. 166 flf. ; Nares, Glossary; 
and Wheatley, ed Every Man in His Humour. 

64. were he of the noble Science. 'Meaning the noble 

science of defence; a master of fencing.' ^Mason. *And 

for defence and use of the weapon, there is a special pro- 
fession of men that teach it' — -Stow, Survey, p. 86. * The 
author of a description of the colleges and schools in and 
about London, which he calls "The Third University of 
England," printed in black letter in 1616, says, " In this city," 
meaning London, " there be manie professors of the science 
of defense, and very skilful men in teaching the best and 
most offensive and defensive use of verie many weapons, as 
of the long-sword, back-sword, rapier and dagger, single 
rapier, the case of rapiers, the sword and buckler, or targate, 

158 The Knighi of the Burning Pestle [act n 

the pike, the halbard, the long-stafiF, and others. Henry Vm 
made the professors of this art a company, by letters patent, 
wherein the art is entitled The Nobk Science of Lkfence'^ ' 

Strutt, Sports and Pastimes, p. 262. 

68-70. God-night . . . threeHENX>re. Emil Koeppel {QueUen- 
Studien zu den Dramen Ben fonson*s, John MarsUm's, und 
Beaumont und Fletcher^ s, 1895, p. 43) regards it as probable 
that these lines are in ridicule of the frequent repetition of 
the words Good night in the garden scene of Romeo and 
Juliet 2. 2 : ' Sweet, good night ! ,' L 120 ; * Good night, good 
night ! ,' 1. 123 ; ' Three words good Romeo, and good night 
indeed!,' !• 1^; 'A thousand times good night!,* L 154; 
* God night, good night ! parting is such sweet sorrow That 
I shall say good night till it be morrow.' 1. 184. 

79. Mile-end. ' An ancient manor and hamlet of Stepney 
(or Stebonheath) parish, lying to the east of WhitechapeL . . . 
It was " so called," says Strype, " from its distance from the 
middle parts of London," or more probably from its distance 

from Aldgate ^Mile End Bar, where Mile End begins, being 

exactly a mile from Aldgate. . . . Mile End in the 17th cen- 
tury was still in " the coimtry," and a resort of Londoners 

for fresh air, and cakes and ale.* ^Wh.-C. The green 

at Mile End was long frunous as a rendezvous for the mil- 
itary. Cf. next note, 5. 67 flf., and notes. 

80. there has bene a pitch-field my child betweene the 
naughty Spaniels and the English-men. *This must relate 
to some mock-fight which was fought at Mile End, where 
the train-bands of the city were often exercised. One of 
the ballads mentioned in Monsieur Thomas (voL VI, p. 489), 
is " The Landing of the Spaniards at Bow, with the Bloody 
Battle at Mile-End." Again in the epilogue to a Wife for 
a Month (vol. Vm, p. 252), "the action at Mile-End** aUudes 
to the same or a similar mock-fight* Weber. 

85. white boy. This is a term of endearment common in 
our old writers. It was usually applied to a favorite son 
or dependent Thus in The Two Lancashire Lovers, 1640, 
p. 19: *Fie, yoimg gentleman, will such a brave sparke as 
you, that is yovu- mother's white-boy, undoe your hopes.* The 

Acrn] Notes 159 

term, however, though in itself an indication of &vor, might 
have an opprobrious association, as in a tract printed 1644 
which was entitled The Dewlts White Boyes, a mixture of 
malicious maUgnants, with their Evill Practices against the 
Kingdome and Parliament, &c 

87. let thy father go anicke-vp. ' Sneck-up, or snick-up. 
An interjection of contempt, thought to be of little meaning, 
till it was proved by one passage to signify "go and be 
hanged," or "hang yourself"; which sense, indeed, agrees 
best with most of the instances. Mr. Malone had conjectured 
that this was the meaning. The passage alluded to is this : 

A Tibume hempen-candell will e'en cure you: 

It can cure traytors, but I hold it fit 

T'apply't ere they tiie treason do commit. 

Wherefore in Sparta it ycleped was 

Snick-up, which is in English gallow-grass. 

Taylor, Praise of Hempseed [p. 66, Works, 1630]. 

This was quoted by Mr. Weber ; and firom it we may not 
unfairly conjecture that "neck-up," or "his neck-up," was 

the original notion.' ^Nares, Glossary. Cf. He3rwood, Fait 

Maid of the West {Wks., ed. Dyce, 2. 268): 

She shall not rise, sir, go, let your Master snick-up. 

Cf. also Twelfth Nigth 2. 8: 

We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck up! 

94. bi'th eie. Apparently the expression means in unlimited 
quantity, N. E. D, cites passages which seem to bear out 
this definition : c. 1894 P. PL Crede, 84 : * Grete-hedede queues 
wij) gold by t)e eigen.'; c. 1692 Marlowe, Jew Of Malta 3. 4: 
* Thou shalt have broth by the eye^ 

98. I cannot tell. ' I know not what to say or think of it. 

A common phrase in old plays.' Halliwell, Arch, and Prov. 

Diet. Cf. Ben Jonson, The Magnetic Lady 2. 1 : 

Plea. Which would you choose now, mistress. 
Pla. 'Cannot tell; 
The copy does confound one. 

1 60 The Knight of the Burning PestU [act n 

Cf. also Bartholomew Fair 1. 3 : * Quar. ... I pray thee 
what ailest thou, thou canst not sleep? hast thou thorns in 
thy eyelids, or thistles in thy bed? 

fVtnw. I cannot tell: it seems you had neither in your 
feet, that took this pain to find me.' 

99. rie see no more else. Fll see nothing else ; HI see no- 
thing except (Ralph). A similar Elizabethan idiom b no mort 
but, in which but in the sense of except follows a negative 
comparative, where we should use than. 

These poor informal women are no more 
But instruments of some mightier member. 

Measure for Measure 5. 1. 

C£ Abbott, Shakes. Gram., p. 86. 

99. indeed-law. The compound expression is not given 
in the dictionaries. In separating the words, however, the 
editors have been unwarranted in changing law to la, CL 
variants. Law may originally have been an alteration of k, 
but it has existed for centuries as a distinct exclamatoiy 
word. It is now vulgar. 

102. let* 8 be merry and wise. This is an old saw, which, 
so fer as it has any point at all, seems to mean 'lefs be 
merry, but also wise.' C£ Ralph Roister Doister 1. 1: 

As long lyueth the mery man, they say. 
As doth liie sory man, and longer by a day. 
Yet the ^rassehopper for all his summer pipyng, 
Sterueth m winter with hungrie gryping. 
Therefore an-other sayd sawe do% men aduise 
That they be together both mery and wise. 

Touchstone, the merchant in Chapman's Eastward Ho, at- 
tributes his prosperity in part to the observance of certain 
'sentences,' as 'Touchstone, keep thy shop, and thy shop 
will keep thee,' ' Light gain makes heavy purses,' ' Tis good 
to be merry and wise.* 
In an old play. Every Woman in her Humor, the Host 

says : * lets be merrie and wise, merrie hearts live long.' 

BuUen's Old Plays 4. 366. 

ACT n] Notes i6i 

103. and say they should pat him into a streight paire 
of Gaskins. Gaskins were a fashion of breeches rather 
looser than the ordinary hose. They were much in vogue 
in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. The Wife is 
afraid that Ralph will be cramped by being clothed in 
gaskins too small for him, streight in this connection mean- 
ing stretched or tight C£ Glossary. 

104. knot-grasse. 'So called for the numerous nodes in 
its stems, and its thickly spreading habit It is a tough 
trailing and branching plant, common in trodden ground, 
and often carpeting dooryards, &c. An infusion of it was 
formerly supposed to retard bodily growth.' Cent. Diet. 

We want a boy extremely for this function, 
Kept under for a year with milk and knotgrass. 

Coxcomb, 2. 2. 

Get you gone, you dwarf; 
You minimum, of hindering knotgrass made. 

Mid. Sum. Nighfs Dream 3. 2. 

107-11. How do yon Baph . • • audacity. At the close 
of Nash's Summef's Last Will and Testament, Will Summer, 
who is sitting on the stage, gives a similar encouragement 
to a little boy who enters to speak the epilogue: 'Here a 
pretty boy comes with an Epilogue to get him audacity. 
I pray you sit still a little, and hear him say his lesson without 
book. It is a good boy, be not afraid : turn thy face to my 
lord. Thou and I will play at pouch tomorrow morning for 
breakfast. Come and sit on my knee, and 111 dance thee, 
if thou canst not endure to stand.' 

114. Mirrour of Knight-hood. Cf 1. 247, and note. 

115. the perrilons Waltham downe. Perrihus is an epithet 
habitually used in the romances to describe a region which 
is supposed to be characterized by dangers. One of the 
knights in Amadis is called Gavarte of the Perrihus Valley. 

117. We are betraid here be Oyants, flie boy. Mr. Merry- 
thought is evidently conversant with romances, and is aware 
that discreet ladies are uniformly made to flee from monsters, 
except for good cause. Thus, in Palmerin of England, Part 1, 


1 62 The Knight of the Burning Pestk [act n 

chap. 8, on the appearance of the 'Savage Man* in the 
forest, there was great dismay among the courtly attendants 
of the princess, ' who at this presence of so grim a sire be- 
took themselves to flight' 

120. A gentle Ladie flying? the imbrmoe Of some vnconr^ 
teona knight. This is a recurrent feature of the romances. 
Cf. Introd, pp. XXXVm-XL. 

121. I wiU releine her. Cf. 1. 268, and note. 

125. gentle squire. This is a chivalric formula so fre- 
quently employed as scarcely to need illustration. 

129. while I sweare. ]^ would be practically an endless 
task to quote the instances of vows taken by knights-errant 
when entering upon a quest or a combat. 

129. by my taodght-hood. Cf. Don Quixote, Bk. 1, chap. 4: 
* And so that he will swear to me to observe it, by the order 
of knighthood which he hath received, I will set him free.' 

180. by the soule of Amadis de Gkiule. Similarly, in Pat- 
merin de Oiiva, Part 1, chap. 35: *By the soule of King 
Arthur, said the Duke, looke thou guard thyself weU.' 

Antadis of Gaul is the most widely known of the con> 
tinental prose romances. The oldest extant version is in 
Spanish. It was made by Garcia Ordonez de Montalvo, and 
was printed in Saragossa in 1508. The author admits that 
most of his book is mere translation. There is practical 
unanimity of opinion that the lost original was written in 
Portugese by the troubadour Joao Lobeira (1261—1325). C£ 
C. Micha^lis de Vasconcellos and T. Braga, Geschichte der 
Portugiesischen Litteratur in Grundriss der Romamschen 
Philologie, 1897, 2. 216 ff^. Also cf. J. Fitzmaurice-Kelly, 
Spanish Literature, 1904, p. 123. During the early part of 
the 17 th century, an English version was accomplished 
by Anthony Munday, translator of the Paimerin series. 
Cf. Introd., p. LXVm. 

181. My famous Ancestor. As may be inferred from the 
judgment of Cervantes, Ralph derives small honor from 
classing himself among the descendants of AnuuUs, since 
the excellences of their original are but dimly reflected in 
them. Cf. Introd., p. LXK. 

ACT n] Notes 163 

131. by my sword. So Palmeiin, in the combat with 
Franarco, swears: 'By my sword, villain, I shall make 
thee dearly to pay for thy folly.' Cf. Amadis of Gaul, 
Bk. 1, chap. 1 : *The king whose will was already disposed 
by God that that which ensued might come to pass, took his 
sword which was by him, and laying his right hand upon 
the cross of its hilt, pronounced these words : / swear by 
this cross, this sword wherewith I received the order of 
knighthood, to perform whatever you shall require for the 
Lady Elisena.' 

132. The beaateouB Brionella girt about me. Weber er- 
roneously says that Brionella is Palmerin de Oliva's dwarf. 
Urbanillo is the name of the dwarf; his most important 
function is as intermediary in the love-affiairs of his master. 
Brionella is the companion of the Princess Polianardo, who 
is daughter of the Cxerman emperor, and the beloved of 
Palmerin. Brionella is also the mistress of Palmerin's friend 
Ptolme, who, in the course of the story, wins and weds her. 

141. offer to carrie his bookes after him. Try to emulate 
or equal him. 

152. bring about Thy desperate wheel, that I may clime 
at length And stand. In later classic m3rthology the goddess 
Fortuna was represented with wings, or with her eyes bound, 
standing upon a ball; and her usual attribute was a wheel, 
the turning of which signified the instability of change. The 
image of Fortune's wheel constantly recurs in literature. 
Cf. Boethius, Consolation of Philosophy {Temple Classics, 
p. 29) : * I [Fortune] turn my wheel that spins its circle fairly ; 
I delight to make the lowest turn to the top, the highest to 
the bottom. Come to the top if you will, but on this con- 
dition, that you think it no unfairness so sink when the rule 
of my game demands it' 

Heywood's Four Prentices of London begins with these lines : 

Daughter, thou seest how Fortune turns her wheel. 

We that but late were moimted up aloft 

Lull'd in the skirt of that inconstant Dame, 

Are now thrown head-long by her ruthless hand. 

To kiss that earth whereon our feet should stand. 


1 64 The Knight of the Burning Pestle t^cr n 

173. rie tell Baph a tale in's eare. To tell or whi^)er 
a tak in the ear seems to have been a proverbial expression; 
c£ 5. 28. Cf. also Romeo and Juliet 1. 5 : 

I have seen the day 
That I have worn a visor and could ieU 
A whispering tak in a fair lady*s ear. 
Such as would please. 

174. Wanion. 'Used only in the phrase with a wamon, 
but totally unexplained, though exceedingly common in use. 
It seems to be equivalent to with a vengeance, or with a 
plague/ ^Nares, Glossary. 

*Ho, clod-pate, where art thou? Come out with a ven- 
geance, come out with a wannion.' Ozell*s Rabelais^ Bk. 4, 

chap. 47. 

179. an. 'Weber printed with the first 4 to, "an."' 

Dyce. But may not Weber and Qi be right? Dyce would 
read as, but an as a contraction of and, in its obsolete sense 
of as iff fits the context quite as welL It bears this mean- 
ing in Midsummer Nights Dream 1. 2: '1 will roar you 
an 'twere any Nightingale.' Cf. also Troilus and Cressula 
1. 2 : ' O he smiles valiantly. . . . O yes, awft were a cloud 
in autumn.' 

179. EmperalL Undoubtedly the word is the same as 
emperial, an obsolete form of imperial, which often in the 16 th 
and 17 th centuries, as seemingly here, meant an emperor. 

Cf. Two Gentlemen of Verona 2. 3 : * I . . . am going with 
Sir Proteus to the Imperiafs Court' 

184. For and the Squire of Damsels as I take it. The 
obsolete adv. phr. for and, meaning and also, and besides, 
puzzled the early editors. Ed. 1750 altered it and subjoined 
it to the preceding sentence, reading: 

Your squire doth come and with him comes the lady 
Fair, and the Squire of Damsels, as I take it 

Ed. 1778 and Weber read: 

Your squire doth come and with him comes the lady. 
Ralph. Fair ! and the Squire of Damsels, as I take it ! 
Madam, if any service, &c. 

▲CTu] Notes 165 

Pyce restored the original reading, and cited the following 
instances to show that the expression for and is not unfre- 
quently used by our early writers: 

Syr Gy, Syr Gawen, Syr Cayus, for and Syr Olyvere. 

Skelton's second poem Against Gamesche, 

Works 1. 119, ed. Dyce. 

A hippocrene, a tweak, for and a fiicus. 
Middleton's Fair Quarrel 6. 1. Works 3. 644, ed. Dyce. 

A pick-axe, and a spade, a spade. 

For and a shrouding sheet Hamlet 6. 1. 

Mason observed that the " Squire of Damsels " is an al- 
lusion to Spencer's Squire of Dames, Cf. Faere Queen, 
3. 7. 51, &c. Cf. Monsieur Thomas 1. 1 : 

Hylas. I must be better, 
And nearer in my service, with your leave, sir. 
To this fair lady. 
/ VaL What, Uie old Squire of Dames still? 

The expression seems to have become proverbial as a 
specification of any man who is particularly attentive to 
women. Cf. Massinger, Emperor of the East 1. 2: 

Marry, there I'm call'd 
The Squire of Dames, or Servant of the Sex. 

187. I am prest to gine yon succour. For to that holy 
end I beare my Armour. In accordance with the oath of 
knighthood. ' He [the knight] swore, and received the holy 
communion in confirmation of his oath, to fiilfil the duties 
of his profession ; to speak the truth ; to maintain the right ; 
to protect women, the poor, and the distressed; to practice 
courtesy; to pursue the infidels; to despise the allurements 
of ease and safety, and to maintain his honour in every 

perilous adventure.' Sir E. Strachey, Introduction to Morte 


193. the beauty of that face. The good Mrs. Merrythought 
cannot easily be thought of as beautifiil. One is reminded 
here of Don Quixote's raptures over the imagined beauty 
of the Asturian wench, Maritomes, in Bk. 3, chap. 2. Cf. 
Introd., p. LL 

1 66 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act n 

209. I hane bat one hone, on which ahall ride This LadiB 
faire behind me. This is a very unknightly proposition; 
Ralph is driven to hard shifts by his lack of the proper ac- 
coutrements. The approved manner of exit for the * relieved ' 
damsel is on a palfrey of her own, which she rides in front 
of her benefactor. Galaor rescued a 'distressed damsel* 
from six villains and a dwar( and, after he had given his 
arms to his squire, said: 'Damsel, go ycu before me, and 

I will guard you better than I have done.' Amadis, Bk. 1, 

chap. 13. 

209. on. Eds. 1760, 1778, and Weber printed, for the 
metre, upon. 

216. they may all cast their caps at him« According to 
N. E, D., this phrase means U) show indifference to, give up 
for lost In the text, however, the meaning clearly is that 

the rivals of Ralph may all salute L e. cast their caps 

before him as a superior. For the definition in the Glossary 
I am indebted to F. W. Moorman, ed. of The Kmght of 
the Burning Pestle in The Temple Dramatists. 

The Citizen is making a sweeping denial of the Londoners' 
being able to equal Ralph in histrionic achievements. Caps 
were the common headdresses of the citizens. Hence, it came 
about that the citizens obtained the name of FkUcaps, and 
were so called, in derision, by the pages of the court The 
city flatcap was roimd, perfectly flat, and tight-fitting, and 
was held close to the crown by a narrow band about die 
bottom. Cf. Strutt, Dress and Habits of England 1. 816 ; 
2. 137. 

218. the twelue Companies of London. Cf. note to Ind. 16. 
The twelve great companies of London were the Mercers, 
the Grocers, the Drapers, the Fishmongers, the Goldsmiths, 
the Skinners, the Merchant Tailors, the Haberdashers, the 
Salters, the Ironmongers, the Vintners, and the Clothworkers. 

219. and hee be not inneigled by some of these paltrie 
Plaiers. The Wife's anxiety is not caused by a wholly 
imaginary danger. There are evidences to show that boys 
were not only * inveigled ' into the service of theatrical com- 
panies, but were sometimes forcibly kidnapped. In the Athe- 

Acrn] Notes 167 

naeum, Aug. 10, 1889, 2. 203-4, James Greenstreet prints 
a bill of complaint from the father of a boy who had been 
kidnapped by the agents of Blackfriars. The complaint 
makes mention of other boys thus stolen, among them ' Nathan 
ffield, a schoUer of a grammer schoole in London, kept by 
one Mr. Monkester.' Nathan Field became a famous actor 
in later years. His schoolmaster was the same Monkester 
to whom the Wife has once referred, 1. 106. Such cases of 
enforced service at the theatres as Greenstreet records are 
typical Cf. H. S. Mallory, ed. Ben Jonson's PdetasUr 1. 6 
{Yak Studies in English, 1905, p. 188). 

231. walke for your repose. Or sit, or if you will go 
plncke a rose. Cf. Middleton, The Changeling 1. 2: 'Yes, 
sir, for every part has his hour : we wake at six and look 
about us, that's eye-hour ; at seven we should pray, that's 
knee-hour ; at eight walk, that's leg-hour ; at nine gather 
flowers and pbick a rose, that's nose-hour ' ; &c. 

Pluck a rose is a euphemism of fairly obvious meaning; 
= alvum exonerare, Class, Cf. Grose, Diet, of Vulgar Tongue 
in V. Pluck, 

240. mickle grieae me. The adverbial use of mickle is 
unusual. It is not noticed in the dictionaries. 

260. by Oods bodie. Humphrey is swearing by the bread 
of the sacrament See Glossary. Cf. / Henry IV 2. 1 : 
' Gods body ! the turkeys in my pannier are quite starved out' 
Diminutive oaths of this sort were considered as ornaments 
of conversation, and were adopted by both sexes, in order 
to give spirit and vivacity to their language. *A shocking 
practice,' says Drake, 'which seems to have been rendered 
fashionable by the reprehensible habit of the Queen, whose 

oaths were neither diminutive nor rare.' Shakes, and his 

Times, p. 423. One easily recalls Captain Bobadill, the ' Paul's 
man,' in Every Man in his Humour^ and his frequent oaths, 
and the despair of Master Stephen, the country gull, who 
exclaims : ' O, he swears most admirably ! By Pharaoh's foot ! 

Body o' Caesar! 1 shall never do it, sure. Upon mine 

honor, and by Saint George! No, I ha' not the right 

grace.' 3. 5. 

1 68 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act n 

It b somewhat surprising to see the expletive by God& 
body in our play, since there is upon the statute book 'an 
Act to restrain the abuses of players ' (3 Jac 1, chap. 21), 
wherein it is enacted, ' That if at any time or times after the 
end of this present Session of Parliament, any person or 
persons do or shall in any Stage-play, Enterlude, Shew, Biay- 
game, or Pageant jestingly or profanely speak or use the 
holy name of God, or of Christ Jesus, or of the Holy Ghost, 
or of the Trinity, which are not to be spoken, but with fear 
and reverence, shall forfeit for every such offence by him 
or them committed ten pounds.' Cf. Wheatley, ed. Every 
Man in his Hunumr, Introduction, p. XLIL 

252. for to telL ' For to, which is now never joined with 
the infinitive except by a vulgarism, was very common in 
£. £. and A. S., and b not uncommon in the Elizabethan 
writers. It probably owes its origin to the fact that the pr^ 
ositional meaning of "to" was gradually weakened as it 
came to be considered nothing but the sign of the infinitive. 

"Forbid the sea for to obey the moon." W. T. 1. 2. 

427.' ^Abbott, Shakes. Gram., p. 162. 

256. get yon to your night-cap and the diet. The pre- 
scription of a diet in sickness is elsewhere mentioned in our 
play. C£ 1. 188; 8. 454; 8. 491. 

* Nightca(>s are first mentioned in the time of the Tudors. 
In an inventory of the Wardrobe of Henry Vin we find : 
" A nightcappe of blacke velvett embroidered." They were 
worn in the day-time by elderly men and invalids. 

When Zoilus was sick he knew not where. 
Save his wrought nightcap and lawn pillow-bear. 

Davies' Epigrams. 

They are fi^equent in the portraits of the seventeenth cen- 
tury, some of velvet or silk, occasionally richly embroidered 
and edged with lace.' Planche, Diet, of Costume. 

262. to Paris with lohn Dorrie. The reference is to a 
song entitled John Dory, which was exceedingly popuku*. 
Weber, in a note on a passage in The Chances 8. 2, where 
one of the characters calls for John Dory, prints all the 

Acrn] Notes 169 

verses of the song. The tune is to be found in Chappell's 
Popular Music of the Olden Time 1. 68, and Hawkins' His- 
tory of Music 5. 478. Ritson, Ancient English Songs 2. 67, 
says that this was the £avorite performance of the English 
minstrels as late as the reign of King Charles IL Cf. Earle, 
Microcosmography, " Character of a Poor Fiddler " : * Hunger 
is the greatest pains he takes, except a broken head some- 
times and laboring John Dory^ 

268. my prettie Nnrnp. Presumably, Nump is here used for 
numi>s, the obsolete term for dolt or blockhead. See Glossary. 
Cf. Bp. Parker, Reproof of Rehearsel Trans., 1673, p. 86: 

Take heart, numpsi here is not a word of the stocks. 

In Ben Jonson's Bartholomew Fair 1. 4 the word is a cor- 
ruption of * Humphrey,' Humphrey Waspe being addressed 
as 'Mr. Numps/ and it is possible that the same nickname 
is here applied to our Humphrey. 

266. The Biaels Dam. This and the similar phrase, 'the 
devil and his dam,' were very common in the literature of 
the time. EngUsche Studien, Vol. 32, prints the following 
quotation, taken from Henry Brinklow's Complaynt of Rod- 
eryck Mors (1642 ; £. £. T. S.), as an irrefutable proof that 
the second expression must already have been a very usual 
one in the first half of the 16th century: 'It is amended, 
even as the devel mendyd his dayms legg (at it is in the 
proverbe).' This is an evidence, added to that of our pas- 
sage, that the devil's dam was accustomed to undergo some 
sort of physical maltreatment. Moreover, the ridicule of these 
infemals was one of the dramatists' favorite appeals to the 
groimdlings, a motive which came by direct descent from 
the later miracle and morality plays, in which the devil was 
often a comic character. 

266. will prone me another Things. Strangely enough, 
the correction of Things to thing escaped the early editors, 
and even Dyce, but was finally made by Strachey. Cf. va- 

271. I am no true woman. Cf. / Henry IV 2. 2 : ' Now, 
as I am a true woman, holland of eight shillings an ell.' 


170 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act n 

279. here's some greene ginger for thee. Aspecific brought 
no doubt, from the Wife's own still-room. The housewives 
of the time were richly versed in remedial lore, and mano- 
£su:tured many of the domestic medicines. Cf. 8. 211, and 

297. no more. This phrase is an old form of demanding 
silence. Cf King John 4. 1 : 

Hub. Peace; no more. Adieu. . . . 

Arth. O heaven! I thank you, Hubert. 

Hid}. Silence; no more: go closely in with me. 

Cf also He)rwood's / Edward IV, p. 24, ed. Dyce : 

Peace, wife, no more. Friend, I will follow ye. 

297. In Dyce's arrangement, the fifth scene begins at this 
point. Cf variants. 'Though Humphrey had not quitted 
the stage, having been detained by the Citizen's Wife, there 
can be no doubt that the audience were to imagine a change 
of scene on the entrance of Ralph : I have already noticed 
more than once that our early theatres were not furnished 
with moveable painted scenery.' ^Dyce. 

dOO. aske him if he keep Hie passage. In the old ro- 
mances, the entrances to castles, &c., are frequently defended 
from intruders by knights who were placed as sentries over 
them. For illustrations, one may tiun to Palmerin of Eng- 
land. In Part 1, chap. 10, Primaleon comes to Dramuziando's 
castle. 'And being come near the castle, the noble prince 
Don Duardos came forth upon the bridge. . . . Primaleon, 
no less abashed at the bravery of the castle, than to see a 
knight so well appointed at arms, began in this order to 
use his speeches: Sir Knight, will you not give passage to 
one who wishes to see this castle, without making him prove 
the strenght of our hands ? If, repUed Don Ehiardos, you 
knew how Uttle necessary that wish is, I well believe you 
would bend your way elsewhere. The custom is, that you 
must joust with me, and if you overthrow me, pass through 
other full doubtful dangers, which will show themselves.' 
The keeping of a passage for ' the love of lady fair ' seems 
exemplified in Part. 1, chap. 20 : ' As concerning why I keep 

Acrn] Notes 171 

this passage, thus it is : a certain lady, who cured the wounds 
I received at my last encounter, against two knights whom 
I slew, commanded me to keep this passage until I should 
win a knight whom she greatly desireth.' 

804. on. Eds. 1760, 1778, and Weber printed, for the 
metre, upon, 

311. Where Ib the caitiye wretch, Ac. Ralph's espousal 
of Humphrey's cause is reflective of the chivalric defense 
of all distressed mortals, male as well as female. Cf. Don 
Qmxofe, Bk. 2, chap. 6: 'And therefore I travel through 
these solitudes and deserts, seeking adventures with full res- 
olution to offer mine own arm and person to the most 
dangerous that fortune shall present, in the aid of weak and 
needy persons.' Cf. 1. 268, and note. 

816. the great ventore of the puree And the rich casket. 
'Adventures of the casket' are not infrequent in the ro- 
mances. Cf. Introd., p. XXXDC 

818. Here comes the Broker hath purloin'd my treasure. 
There is double meaning in this sentence. Humphrey uses 
the word broker not only in its ordinary significance, but, 
more emphatically, in the obsolete sense of pander, or go- 
between in love-afliairs ; here, with an ironical implication. 

828. hid him take choice of ground. And so defye him. 
This reflects the conventional mode of challenging an enemy 
to a contest or trial of skill. Frequentiy the summons was 
carried by a subordinate of the challenger. Thus in Amadis 
of Gaul, Bk. 2, chap. 12 : ' Then said the knight, King, I defy 
tiiee on the part of Famongomaden, the giant of the Boil- 
ing Lake.' 

825-7. I defie . . . bright Lady. Cf. Amadis of Gaul, 

Bk. 1, chap. 17 : * Galvanes then let loose the bridle; You 

threaten us, and you will not release the damsel as right 
is, therefore I defy you on my own behalf, and for all errant 
knights ! And I defy you all, replied the duke ; in an evil 
hour shall any of you come here ! ' 

888--42. With that . . . Helmet. ' Quoted, or parodied, 

from some romance.' Dyce. 

such a knocke, lliat he forsooke his horse and 

172 The Knight of the Burning Pestk [act n 

downe he felL The passage is typical Cf. AnuuMs, Bk. 1. 
chap. 12 : ' When he of the lions heard that he with whom 
he must yet deal was the lord of the castle, he delivered 
him such a rigorous blow on the helmet that he lost his 
stirru(>s, and staggered and fell upon the horse's neck.* 

841. And then he leaped vpon him and pluckiiif^ of his 
Helmet. We are to assume that Jasper fitted the action to 
the word. The removing of the vanquished knight's helmet 
was usually the prelude to his acknowledgement of defeat, 
in the absence of which he suffered death. The passage in 
Antadis just quoted continues : ' The knight then seized his 
helmet and plucked it oflf, . . . and cried. Yield thyself or 
thou art dead. Mercy, quoth he, good knight, and I am 
your prisoner.' C£ also Bk. 2, chap. 19 : ' Amadis followed 
close and caught hint by the helmet, and pbtcked it off, and 
brought him to the ground at his feet, then knelt upon him 
and cut ofif his head, to the great joy ofif alL' 

849. Ood bleese vs. God preserve us. The utterance is 
a precaution firom any evil which might arise firom pro- 
nouncing the devil's name. Cf. Ben Jonson, The Devil is 
an Ass 4. 4: 

fVit, What's his name? 

Fit. Devil, o'Darbi-shire. Hit. Bless us from him! 

852. if there bee any Law in England. Seemingly a com- 
mon expression. Cf. A Woman is a Weathercock, Dods.-Haz., 
Old Eng. Plays 9. 67 : * She is my kinswoman, and I would 
be loth our house should suffer any disgrace in her; if 
there be law in England, . . . the wench shall take no wrong.' 

858. rie hane a ring to disconer all inchantments. An 
indication of the credence given by the Citizen and his class 
to the tales of enchantment and the magical properties of 
rings, which were scattered throughout the old romances. 

868. Fendng-schoole. Cf. 2. 54, and note. ' The manner 
of the proceeding of our fencers in their schools is this : first, 
they which desire to be taught at their admission are called 
scholars, and, as they profit, they take degrees, and proceed to 
be provosts of defence ; and that must be wonne by pubUc 

Acrn] Notes 173 

trial of their proficiencie and of their skill at certain weapons, 
which they call prizes, and in the presence and view of many 
hundreds of people; and, at their next and last prize well 
and sufficiently performed, they do proceed to be maisters 
of defence, or maisters of fence, as we commonly call them.' 

The Third Umversify of England, 1616, quoted by Strutt, 

Sports and Pastimes, p. 262. 

379. I Bweare by this my Order. The fictitious Order of 
the Burning Pestle. As to the custom of taking oaths, cf. 
2. 129-88, and notes. 

883. was straid. In the passive of some few intransitive 
verbs, mostly of motion, both be and have are still used, 
though the use of ^ is almost wholly restricted to the 
passive forms of transitive verbs. In 17th century English^ 
the use of be with intransitive verbs was very common. Cf. 
Abbott, Shakes. Gram,, p. 206. 

384. Paddle-wharfe. Now called Puddle Dock. It is situ- 
ated at the foot of St Andrew's Hill, Upper Thames Street, 
Blackfriars, in Castle Bayward Ward. *The Blacke-Mers 
stairs, a free landing-place. Then a Watergate at Puddle 
wharf, of one Puddle that kept a wharf on the west side 
thereof, and now of Puddle Water, by means of many 
horses watered there.' Stow, Survey, ed. Thoms, p. 16. 

884. the Criers were abroad for it. There is in the British 
Museum an undated folio volume containing a curious little 
collection, on three sheets, of early London cries. The 
customary duty of the town crier in advertising lost children 
is hit ofif on the third sheet, upon which as a picture of this 
officer, bearing a staff and keys. Beneath the picture are 
these humorous lines: 

O yes, any man or woman that 
Can tell any tydings of a little 
Mayden childe of me age of 24 
Yeares. Bring word to the Cryer 
And you shall be pleased for 

Your labor, 
And God's blessinge. 

C£ A. W. Tuer, Old London Street Crtes, p. 22. 

1 74 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act n 

386. moet comfortablest. The double superlative is of 
frequent occurrence in our old writers. * The inflections er 
and est, which represent the comparative and superlative 
degrees of adjectives, though retained, yet lost some of their 
force, and sometimes received the addition of more, most 
for the purpose of greater emphasis. . . . Ben Jonson speaks 
of this as " a certain kind of English atticism, imitating the 

manner of the mast ancientest and finest Grecians." B. J. 

786. But there is no ground for thinking that this idiom was 
the result of imitating Greek. We find Bottom saying : " The 

more better assurance." ^M. N. D. IL 1. 49.' ^Abbott, Shakes. 

Gram., p. 22. 

387. you. 'Omitted by Weber!' — Dyce, The play on 
get is suffidentiy evident. 

392. Waltham Townes end. Waltham Abbey, or Waltham 
Holy Cross, is a small market-place of Essex. It is situated 
on the river Lea, some thirteen miles out from the Liver- 
pool Street Station, London. It was built on the edge of 
the great forest of Waltham, in which some of the scenes 
of our play are laid. 

393. the Bell Line. The representation of a bell was a 
common tavern-sign. In Chambers' Book of Days 1. 278, 
there is a picture of the Bell Inn in Warwick Lane, in which 
the signboard is very clearly marked. There was a £sunous 
Bell Inn in Holbom. 'The bell is one of the conmionest 
signs in England, and was used as early as the fourteenth 
century, for Chaucer says that the "gentil hostelrie that 
heighte the Tabard," was " fast by the Belle." Most probably 
bells were set up as signs on account of our national fond- 
ness for bell-ringing, which procured for our island the name 
of the "ringing island," and made Handel say, that the bell 
was our national musical instrument; and long may it be 
so !' Larwood and Hotten, History of Signboards, p. 477. 

'Those townes that we call thorowfaires [of which Waltham 
was one] have great and sumptuous innes builded in them, 
for the receiuing of such trauellers and strangers as passe 
to and fro. The manner of harbouring wherein, is not like 
to that of some other countries, ... in which the host or 

Acrn] Notes 175 

goodman of dooth chalenge a lordlie autfaoritie ouer his 
ghests, but cleane otherwise, sith euerie man may vse his 
inne as his owne house in England, and have for his monie 
how great or little varietie of vittels and what other sendee 
himself shall think expedient to call for.' Harrison, Des- 
cription of England (Holinshed's Chronicles 1. 414). 

397. An ancient Casile. C£ Introd., pp. XL-XLVL 

398. the most holy order of the BelL The introduction 
of this fictitious order is in evident ridicule of the great 
number and variety of fraternities among the knights. * We 
have had many orders of Knighthood, plaine Knights, Knights 
of Bath, Knights and Baronets, Knights Bannerets, Knights 
Templars, Knights of Jerasukm, Knights of IVindsor, and 
Knights of the Post, which two last were very much like 
the Knight errants, for they could reply to the Question as 

quick as the Don, and as point blanke.' Gayton, Festiwms 

Notes Upon Don Quixote, p. 9. 

' While the form of chivalry was martial, its object became 
to a great extent religious and social : from a mere military 
array chivalry obtained the name of the Order, the Holy Order, 
and a character of seriousness and solemnity was given to 
it' Sir E. Strachey, Introduction to Morte Dartkur, p. XXIV. 

403. Ghamberlino, who will see Our beds prepared. ' Cham- 
berlino, properly Chamberlain. An attendant in an inn, equiv- 
alent to the present head waiter or upper chambermaid, 
or both offices united; sometimes male, sometimes female. 
Milton says that Death acted to Hobson the carrier: 

In the kind office of a chamberlin, 

Show'd him his room where he must lodge that night, 

Pull'd off his boots, and took away the l^ht 

On the Univ. Carrier, 1. 14. 

I had even as live the chamberlaine of the White Horse 
had called me up to bed. 

Peele's Old Wive's Tale, i, 1. 

The character of a chamberlaine is given at large by Wye 
Saltonstall, in the 18th of his Characters (1631), where some 
of his tricks are exposed. Among his perquisites was that 
of selling faggots to the guests. He is also said to be " sec- 

1 7 6 The Knighi of the Burning Pestle [act n 

retary to the kitching and tapsty," L e. the tap. He also 
made the charge for the reckoning. The author concludes 
by saying, 

But I forbeare any fsuther description, since his picture 
is drawne to the life in every inne. 

See Mr. Warton's ed. of Milton^s smaller poems, p. 323. A 
chamberlaine was also a servant in private houses. See 
Johnson.' ^Nares, Glossary. 

404. and bring vs snowy aheetes. ' Ech comer is sure to 
lie in cleane sheets, wherein no man hath beene lodged since 
they came from the landresse, or out of the water wherein 

they were last washed.* ^Harrison, Description of Englemd 

(Holinshed's Chronicles 1. 414). 

405. Where neuer foote-man stretch'd his buttered Hams. 
' This alludes to the running footmen, a fashionable piece of 
splendid folly prevalent at the time. They were still kq)t 
by some noblemen in Scotland about the middle of the last 
century, ane are to be met with occasionally on the continent 
Like the jockeys, they are put upon a particular diet ; and, 
in order to prevent cramps, the calves of their legs are 
greased, and to this the text refers.' ^Weber. 

409. our Palfries slioke with wisps of straw. 'Their 
horsses in like sort are walked, dressed and looked vnto by 
certaine hostelers or hired seruants, appointed at the charges 
of the house, who in hope of extraordinarie reward will deale 
verie diligentlie after outward appeerance in this their func- 
tion and calling.' ^Harrison, Description of Englaml (Hohxt- 

shed's Chronicles 1. 414). ' For as soon as a passenger comes 
to an Inne, the servants run to him, and one takes his horse 
and walks him till he be cold, then rubs him and gives him 
meate, yet I must say they are not much to be trusted in 
this last point, without the eye of the Master or his servant 
to oversee them.' Fynes Moryson, dted by Besant, London 
in the Time of the Tudors, p. 386. 

411. grease their teeth with candle snuffe. This seems 
to have been a common trick of the ostlers to prevent the 
horse from eating the provender. Li Lanthome and Candle- 

Acrn] Notts 177 

light ( Wks. 3. 298), Dekker describes the manner in which 
a certain ostler proceeded to wean his charges of their taste 
for hay. He stole down to the stable in the dead of night, 
and took away their provender. * The poore Horses looked 
very mfully vpon him for this, but hee rubbing their teeth 
onely with the end of a candle (in steed of a Corrol) tolde 
them, that for their ladish trickes it was now time to weane 
them: And so wishing them not to be angry if they lay 
vpon the hard boards, cosidering all the beddes in the house 
were full, back againe he stole to his Coach, till breake of 
day: yet fearing least the sunne should rise to discouer his 
knauery, vp hee started, & into the stable he stumbled, 
scarce halfe awake, giuing to euery lade a bottle of hay for 
his breake-fast ; but al of them being troubled ^ the greasy 
toath-ach could eate none, which their maisters in the morning 
espying swore they were either sullen or els that provender 
pricked them.' 

416. Tap. Who's there, you're welcome genUemen. Cf. 
Timon of Athens 4. 3 : 

Thou gav'st thine ears like tapsters that bid welcome 
To knaves and all approachers. 

425. goodly entertaine. 'And it is a world to see how 
ech owner of them [L e. the inns] contendeth with other for 
goodnesse of interteinement of their ghests, as about finesse 
& change of linnen, furniture of bedding, beautie of roomes, 
service at the table, costlinesse of plate, strength of drinke, 
varietie of wines, or well vsing of horses.* Harrison, De- 
scription of England, p. 415. 

441. Maister Hnmphery will do some-bodies errant. Cf. 
variants. Errand, in this connection, denotes some dignified 
enterprise. The Wife is predicting that Humphrey, like 
Ralph, will prove his quality by undertaking the rescue of 
some distressed knight or damsel. Cf. Kane, Arctic Explo- 
rations 2. 21. 207 : * The scene impressed my brother when 
he visited it on his errand of rescue' Cf. Glossary. 

448. Who oft hath vrged me thy foolishnesse. Who 
oft hath brought to my mind, pressed upon my attention, 


178 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act n 

thy foolishness. For a similar use of urge, c£ The Coxcomb 
5. 2: 

Ric I do beseech you 

To pardon all these foults, and take me up 
An honest, sober, and a feithful man I 
VioUi [raising him]. For God^s sake, urge your faults do 
more, but mend ! 

By supplying to, the modem editors have mended the 
lame metre. 

454. hedge binding. According to N. E. D., this compound 
word is obsolete. It is used to denote 'something used to 
bind together the bushes composing a hedge.' 

464. Packeridge. According to Harrison, 'Puchrich' was 
on 'the waie from Walsingham to London,' some thirteen 

miles from Waltham, and twenty-five from London. De- 

scripHon of England, p. 415. 

468. tuely. Misprint Cf. variants. 

476. When it was growne to darke midnight. 'This 
stanza is from the ballad of Fair Margaret and Sweet William, 
ReUques of Ancient Poetry [Vol 3, Bk. 2], where it is thus 
given [from "a modem printed copy"]: 

"When day was gone, and night was come, 

And all men £ast asleep, 
Then came the ^irit of £Edr MargVet, 

And stood at William's feet " ' Weber. 

The full title of the ballad is Fair Margarets Misforiuttes; 
or Sweet William's frightful dreams on his wedding night, 
with the sudden death and burial of those noble lovers. Biar- 
garet has died of grief because her lover has deserted her, 
and wedded another. Her ghost appears in his dreams to 
rebuke him. He is overcome with remorse, and dies. The 
tune to the ballad is printed in ChappeU's Popular Music 
of the Olden Time 1. 383. 

483. I am three merry men, and three merry men. Chap^ 
pell in his Popular Music of the Olden Time 1. 216, prints 
the tune to a catch which runs thus: 

Three merry men and three merry men 
And three merry men be we a, 

ACT n] Notes 179 

I in the wood, and thou on the ground 
And Jack sleeps in the tree. 

These verses are rehearsed in Peele's Old Wives' Tak ; 
they are sung in Act 2 of Ram Alky (Dods-Haz., Old Eng. 
Plays 10. 298); are referred to in Dekker and Webster's 
Westward Ho, and other old plays ; and in Fletcher's tragedy, 
The Bloody Brothers, 3. 2, they occur in the following form : 

Three merry boys, and three merry boys, 

And three merry boys are we. 
As ever did sing, three parts in a string, 

All under the triple tree. 

Sir Toby, in Twelfth Night 2. 3, says that *Malvolio*s a 
Peg-a-Ramsey, and Three merry men be we.^ Hawkins, in 
his History of Music, says that it is a conclusion common 
to many old songs. The refrain, indeed, goes back at least 
to the Robin Hood Ballads: 

Then Robin Hood took them by the hands 

With a hey, &c. 
And danced about the oak-tree; 
For three merry men, and three merry men. 

And three merry men be we. 

485. tronle the blacke bowle to me. ' Trowle, or trok the 
bowl was a common phrase in drinking for passing the vessel 
about, as appears by the following beginning of an old catch : 

"Trole, trole the bowl to me. 

And I will trole the same again to thee." 

Sir John Hawkins* History of Music 3. 22. 

It is probably the above catch which Merrythought intro- 
duces into his speech I ' Weber. Dyce says that Hawkins' 

quotation is from Ravenscroft's Pammelia 1609, a book which 
is not for the present pinrpose obtainable. 

C£ the song at beginning of Act 2, Gammer Gurton's 
Needk, stanza 3 : 

Then dooth she trowle to mee the bowle, 

Euen as a mault-worme shulde, 
And sayth, "Sweete hart," I tooke my part 

Of tlus ioUy good ale and olde. 


i8o The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act n 

In the Second Three Men's Song, Dekker's Shoemake/s 
Holiday 5. 4, there is this stanza : 

Trowl the bowl, the jolly nut-brown bowl. 

And here, kind mate, to thee: 
Let's sing a dirge for Saint Hugh's soul. 

And down it merrily. 

The tune to Heywood's song is in Chappell's Papular Music 
of the Olden Time 1. 278. 

487. cath. A misprint of catch, Cf. variants. 'A catch 
is a species of vocal harmony to be sung by three or more 
persons ; and is so contrived, that though each sings precisely 
the same notes as his fellows, yet by beginning at stated 
periods of time from each other, there results bom. the per- 
formance a harmony of as many parts as there are fingers. 
Compositions of this kind are, in strictness, called Canom 
in the unison; and as properly. Catches, when the words in 
the different parts are made to catch or answer each other.' 
Johnson and Steevens* Shakespeare 4. 67. 

490. mans head vpon London-bridge. ' Old London Bridge 
was a stone bridge over the Thames from London to South- 
wark, 926 feet long, 60 feet high, and 40 feet broad, bdh 
between 1176 and 1209, under the superintendence of Peter 
of Colechurch, chaplain of the former church of St Mary 
Colechurch, in the Old Jewr}'. The heads of traitors and 
heretics were set upon poles at first over the d^ravbridge, and 
then over the bridge gate at Southwark, which was taken 
down in 1726, but the custom of exposing traitors' heads 
had been discontinued before then, although the gate was 
rebuilt of stone in 1728. . . . Hentzener, when in England 
in 1698, counted " above thirty " heads upon the bridge. 
The last head exhibited on the bridge was that of Veimer, 

the Fifth Monarchy zealot, in the reign of Charles n.' 

Wh.-C. The old bridge disappeared in 1832, after the open- 
ing of the new structure in 1831. 

492. of. * Altered by the editors of 1778 to "on"; and 
so Weber: but they ought to have recollected that of m 

the sense of on was formerly very conunon.' Dyce. Cfc 


ACT n] Notes i8i 

517. in a Countrey. This was a common expression. Cf. 
Nash, Summer's Last Will and Testament, Dods., Old Eng. 
Plays 9. 67: 'This same Harry Baker is such a necessary 
fellow to go on errands as you shaU not find in a country.' 

521. As you came from Walmngham. The printed version 
of the ballad, As ye Came from the Holy Land, from which 
the quotation in the text is taken, gives the stanza thus: 

As ye came from the holy land 

Ctf blessed Walsingham, 
O met you not with my true love 

As by the way ye came? 

Percy's Reliques, Vol. 2, Bk. 1. 

This is the query of a forsaken lover, who proceeds to 
descant upon the fickleness of womankind. 

Walsingham was a place of pilgrimage. Cf. next note. 
Percy says *that pilgrimages undertaken on pretense of 
religion, were often productive of affairs of gallantry, and 
led the votaries to no other shrines than those of Venus.' 
He quotes from Langland, Piers Plowman: 

Hermets on a heape, with hoked staves, 
Wenten to Walsingham, and her wenches after. 

The verses in our passage are also found in an old play 
entitled Hans Beerpot, his Invisible Comedy, 1618. The tune 
is printed in Chappell's Popular Music of the Olden Time 1. 123. 

521. fro that holy land. Walsingham is an old-fashioned 
market-town, lying in Norfolk about seven miles from the 
sea. It is of interest to-day because of the remains of an 
ancient Augustinian priory, which once contained the famous 
shrine of Our Lady of Walsingham, which was as celebrated 
for miraculous influences as that of St Thomas at Canter- 
bury. Down to the time of the dissolution of the priory in 
1538, this image of the Virgin was a close rival to equally 
renowned continental fames in the numbers of pilgrims which 
it attracted yearly from all parts of the world. Cf. Cham- 
bers, Book of Days 2. 174, and Murray, Handbook of Essex, 
Suffolk, Norfolk, and Cambridgeshire, 

All eds. except Qi and Dyce print 'the holy land,' a 

1 82 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act n 

reading which ignores the sacred associations of Walsingham, 
and gives a misleading suggestion of Jerusalem. 

581. He set her on a milk-white steed. 'A similar verse 
occurs in a ballad called The Douglas Tragedy, printed in 
the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, Vol. 2, p. 217 [ed 
1810] : 

"He*s mounted her on a milk-white steed. 

And himself on a dapple grey, 
With a bugelet horn hung down by his side. 

And lightly they rode away."' 


•And in The Knight and Shepherds Daughter: 

"He sett her on a milk-white steede, 

And himself upon a graye ; 
He himg a bugle about his necke, 

And soe they rode awaye." 

^Percy's ReUques Vol. 3, Bk. 1. 

Perhaps the verse as given by Merrythought, may exist 
in some ballad with which I am unacquainted.' — ^Dyce. 

Child considers these conjectured originals for Merry- 
thought's verses to be of equal probability. C£ English 
and Scottish Popular Ballads 2. 457. 

The Douglas Tragedy tells of the abduction of Margaret, 
Lord Douglas' daughter, by Lord William, the fight be- 
tween father and lover, the slaying of the latter, and Margaret's 
death from grief 

The Knight and Shepherd's Daughter is a tale of seduc- 
tion and desertion. In the end the knight is forced to wed 
the heroine, with an attendant discovery that she is a duke's 
daughter in disguise, and that he is but a squire's son. 

541-2. downe .... shalL Dyce found these verses in a 
masque which was presented on Candlemasnight at Cole- 
Overton, but which has never been printed. He quotes the 
following passage: 

f^k What newes abrode ? where the vengeance 

haes thou been thus long. 

Bob, Why, goblin, He tell thee, boy; all over England, 
where hospitality-downe he sings, 

ACT n] Nous 183 

Downe, downe it falls, 

Downe, and arise, downe, and arise it never shalL 

543. Ed. 1750, for the metre, reads 'but I behold,' and 
Weber, * I but behold.' 

546. yoal make a do^;e on her. ' We usually talk of a 
dog's sire and dam.' ^Weber. 

556. Oine him flowers i' now Palmer. The custom of 
strewing flowers upon the biers and graves of departed 
friends is of great antiquity. Brand has a chapter upon its 
history. Pop. Atitiq. 2. 302, ffl 

562. Was nener man for Ladies sake. 'A stanza from 
the Legend of Sir Guy ; Percy's ReUques of Antient Poetry, 
VoL 3, Bk. 2: 

Was ever knight for ladyes sake 
Soe tost in love, as I Sir Guy 
For Phelis fa)Te, that lady bright 
As ever man beheld with eye. 

The ballad is again quoted in The Little French Lawyer, 

Act 2, sc. 3.' Weber. The Uttk French Lawyer has only 

one of the lines : 

Was ever man for lady's sake? Down, down I 

* " The Jjtgend of Sir Guy " contains a short summary of 
the exploits of this famous champion, as recorded in the old 
story books ; and is commonly intitled, " A pleasant song of 
the valiant deeds of chivalry achieved by that noble knight 
Sir Guy of Warwick, who, for the love of feur Phelis, be- 
came hermit, and dyed in a cave of craggy rocke, a mile 
distant from Warwick."' Percy, ReUques. 

The original metrical romance is cited by Chaucer as pop- 
ular even in his time: 

Men speke of romances of prys. 

Of Horn childe and Ypotys, 

Of Bevis, and sir Gy. Rime of Sir Thopas. 

The tune of The Legend of Sir Guy is in Chappell's Pop- 
ular Music of the Olden Time 1. 172. 

1 84 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act n 

573. I gane the whoreson gallows money. ' GaUows is a 
common term of reproach, meaning, one who deserves the 
gaUows; yet Weber printed ""I gave the whoreson gaUows- 
money " ! ' Dyce. 

575. him. * 'em. 'Old eds. " him," a firequent misprint' — 
Dyce. C£ variants. 

577. Baloo. * See Percy's ReOques of Afitieni Poetry VoL 2. 
Bk. 2, Lady Anne BothweU's Lamentation; in which tiie 
concluding lines of each stanza are these; 

Balow, my babe, lie stil and sleipe ! 
It grieves me sair to see thee weepe. ' 

Ed. 177a 

' There are several other popular songs which have a sim- 
ilar burden, but the text alludes to the tune, which was 
stiU popular in the reign of Charles U.' Weber. 

Lady Bothwell, in the ballad mentioned, croons over her 
babe a lullaby into which she infuses a lament over her 
lord, who has deserted her. 

578. Lachrimae. Specifically, Lachrimae was a tune, written 
by Dowland, a celebrated lutanist and composer. It is pre- 
served in two MSS. of Dowland's (consisting of lute-music) 
in the Public Library at Cambridge, in Queen Elizabeth's 
Virginal Book, Dowland also published a musical volume 
entitled Lachrytnae, or Seven Teares figured in seaven passion- 
ate Pavans, &c, which has been confused with the tune 
itself by Weber, Nares, and other commentators. C£ Dyce. 

There are numerous references to the tune in the old 

581. what story is that painted vpon the cloth ? Painted 
cloth was a term frequently applied to a species of cheap 

hangings, upon which designs, i. e. 'stories' were 

painted in imitation of tapestry. Since tapestry was very 
expensive, painted cloths were used for decorative purposes 
even in the houses of the aristocracy. Cf. Nares, Glossary, 

If one were to accept the statements of Malone and CoUier 
that curtains were used in front of the old stages, we might 
regard the painted cloth to which the Wife refers as a drop- 

ACT n] Notes 185 

curtain. Recent investigators, however, discountenance the 
conclusions of the older authorities on this point W. J. 
Lawrence, in an article entitled Some Characteristics af the 
Elizabethan and Stuart Stage (EngUsche Studien, Vol 32, 1908), 
in an argument too long to reproduce here, shows that some 
of the passages cited by Malone in support of his contention 
have no bearing on the period, and that all the others refer, 
not to a front curtain, but to the traverses. The traverses 
were hangings at the rear of the stage, sometimes used for 
scenic purposes, and sometimes serving, when drawn, to 
make another and inner apartment, if the business of the 
play so required. 

Especially pertinent to our play is this paragraph in Law- 
rence's article : ' Much of what we know definitely concerning 
the physical conditions of the Elizabethan-Stuart theatres, 
and of the play-going customs of the time, argues of the 
absence of a front curtain. The stage was simply a rush- 
strewn scaffold jutting out into the pit It had no feature 
that approximated to our modem proscenium arch. Between 
player and spectator there was as yet no strict line of de- 
marcation. If the action demanded it (as in The Knight of 
the Burning Pestle\ the player could seat himself tempora- 
rily in the pit ; the spectator, on his part, could retaliate by 
occupying a stool on the stage. Moreover, as there were 
boxes at the back of the stage as well as on the sides, 
there was as little necessity for a front curtain at an early 
playhouse as in a latterday circus.* 

Weber remarks in connection with our passage: 'It may 
here be observed, that the present play is one of the 
strongest proofs in favour of Mr. Malone^s argument, that 
there were no moveable scenes in the ancient theatres; as 
the citizen and his wife would certainly have made their 
observations on the different alterations, which must have 
been necessary had the scenery intended to be imagined 
been actually represented.' 

581. the conftitation of Saint PauL The Wife undoubtedly 
means The Conversion of St. Paul; but the one title for the 
' story * probably has as much significance for her as the other. 

1 86 The Knight of the Burning Pestle (act m 

583. that Biq>h and Laorece. An evident blunder for 
the Rape of Lucrece. 

585. that was a Tartarian. ' " The citizen's mistake and 
his wife's consequent surprise will not be understood widi- 
out recollecting that Tartarian was a cant term for a thief 
So in The Merry Devil of Edmonton, the Host says, — 
'There's not a Tartarian nor a carrier shall breathe upon 
your geldings; they have villainous rank feet, the rogues, 
and they shaU not sweat in my linen.' And in The WiMnder- 
ing Jew, 1640, as quoted by Mr. Reed, the Hangman says, — 
* I pray. Master Jew, bestow a cast of your office upon mc, 
a poor member of the law, by telling me my fortune ; and 
if any thieving Tartarian shall break in upon you, I will 
with both hands nimbly lend a cast of my office to him.' 

* ^Weber, ^who was indebted to the index of Dodsle/s 

Old Plays for these examples of a word not of common 
occurrence, and the meaning of which they leave somewhat 
indefinite.' Dyce. 

Act ni. 

1. my deere deere. Weber foolishly printed 'my dear 
deerV Of course the modem reading should be *my dear 
dear,^ i. e. my dear darling. Cf. variants. 

25. But take it. Moormsaiy ed. of The Knight of the Burm'ng 
Pestle (Temple Dramatists), supplies the right meaning of 
this phrase, viz. give way, acquiesce, and cites, by way of 
illustration, Hamlet's soliloquy at the end of 2. 2 : 

Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across? 
Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face ! 
Tweaks me by the nose ? gives me the lie i ' the throat, 
As deep as the lungs? who does me this, ha? 
'Swounds, I should take it. 

85. Tell me (dearest) what is loue ? This song occurs in 
The Captain 2. 2, with variations and an added stanza. 

47. Euer toward. Those that loue, to lone anew. The 
sense is helped by the omission of the comma after toward. 
Anew is a puzzUng word. It apparently has a meaning ex- 
tending beyond any definition suppUed by the dictionaries. 

ACT in] Notes 187 

I have given it the definition oi freshly ; as a noveUy; wiih 
some implication of fickleness. CI Glossary. This is an inter- 
pretation warranted by the drift of the whole Ijrric, throughout 
which Luce lightly banters Jasper upon the unfaithfalness 
of lovers. 

49-51. I see the Ood, Of heany aleepe, lay on his heaoy 
mace Vpon your eye-lids. Here is the familiar conception 
of Sonmos lulling to sleep whomsoever he touches with his 
golden wand. Cf. Jutius Caesar 4. 3. 267. 

54. distempers. 'Sympson, for the metre, printed "aU 
distempers; " and so his successors. Something perhaps may 
have dropt out from the line : it is nevertheless certain that 
our early poets very frequently used fair as a dissyllable.' 

63. let not ftdnesse Of my poore buried hopes, come vp 
together. The employment of together in connection with 
a verb the subject of which is in the singular is peculiar; 
it can best be explained here by considering the notion of 
plurality involved in the word fulnesse through its association 
with hopes. 

The comma after hopes is omitted by F. and succeeding 
editions, as of course it should be. C£ variants. 

66. the sea and women Are gouem'd by the Moone. 
The idea is proverbial. In Heywood^s 2 Edward IV, 
p. 162, ed. Dyce, Mistress Blague, a false friend of Jane 
Shore, says: 

And what can be objected for the same 
That once I lov'd her: well perhaps I did; 
And women all are goveni'd by the moon, 
But now I am of another humour; 
Which is, you know a planet that will change. 

The notion is embodied by Shakespeare in Richard 111 
2. 2, in a speech of Queen Elizabeth : 

All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes, 

That I, Snng governed by the watery moon, 

May send forth plenteous cries to drown the world ! 

Cf. also Love*s Labour^ s Lost 5. 2: 

, n*-'"' •■^<- 

1 88 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act m 

Rosalind. My £Eice is but a moon, and clouded too 

Not yet I no dance ! Thus change I like the mootL 
King. WiU you not dance? How come you thus 

Rosalind. You took the moon at fiill, but now she's changed 

100. watch at Ladgate. The sentinels who stood guard 
at Ludgate, one of the entrances through the city walL C£ 
Ind. 3, and note. These officers were stationed along all parts 
of the wall. Pepys' Diary 3. 410 (ed. Wheatley, 1893) has 
this entry: *Home in a coach, round by the Wall, where 
we met so many stops by the Watches that it cost us much 
time and some trouble, and more money, to every watch, 
to them to drinck.' 

The Wife's suggestion that the watch at Ludgate be called 
is perhaps especially significant in that she knew of Ludgate, 
not only as a passage-way into the city, but also as a prison 
which was set apart for the free citizens of her own class 
who were committed for debts, trespasses, and like offenses. 
Ludgate was first erected into a prison in the reign of 
Richard n. Traitors and other criminals were committed 
to Newgate. Cf. Massinger, The City Madam: 

. . . built with other men's monies 
Ta'en up at interest, the certain road 
To Ludgate in a citizen. 

102. the King's peace. * orig. The protection secured to 
certain persons by the king, as those employed on his bus- 
iness, travelling on the king's highway, &c ; hence, the gen- 
eral peace of the kingdom under the king's authority.' N. 

E. D. * By the end of the thirteenth century . . . the king's 
peace had fiilly grown from an occasional privilege into a 
common right' Sir T. Pollock, Oxford Lectures, p. 88. 

121. Sir BeuiB. The hero of a celebrated mediaeval ro- 
mance, entitled Sir Bevis of Hampton, which has as its sub- 
ject the wondrous adventures and daring of an English knight, 
principally in the East The legend is widely spread in the 
literatures of mediaeval Europe. The original English version 
(13th cent) seems to have been derived fix)m a French 
source. The story is related in Drayton's Polyolbion, Bk. 2, 

ACT m] Nmo 1S9 

122. siaj Ids rmmrnmg In At 

this is a stock pluase ntran i ng i^ m 
C£ Pabnerin de Oinm, Pant 1. 
Wall againe, where Trenato 
the rest they should be goio| 
tm'ftg at an a p pom te d plaoeL* 

145. I traiihie {m Ikej ai^ m 
Cf. 2 Henry IV 2. 4: ' HosL ... Br set trodL I ac tfe 
worse when one says "sin^gcr;" ieeL aattas. kov I stake : 
. . . yea, in very truth, do L «v 'imen mm mspatieaf: I caoDot 
abide swaggerers." 

156. the reekfloiBi^ m mat paii. In the eraniqg or in 
the morning after breakCut — .he, the gneit. jkall hare a 
reckoning in writii^, and if it aecme moreataooabie^ the Boat 
wiU satisfie him, either fn- the doe price, or by ahating part. 
especially if the servant deceive him any way. which one 
of experience wifl soooe find.' Fynes MofyaoiL Umermry^ 
1617, p. 161. 

160-2. We render tiiaakaa ... Dor tina lirftMhiag of 
oar wearied limbea. One is renunded of Don Qnizoce s 
gratitude to the host in Bk. 3. chap. 3. CC hitrod., 
p. XLL 

164. there ia twelne ririlKas* ^ Wf- Kalph and his 
attendants have ^lent the night at the iniL and have prob- 
ably had su{^>er and breakfasL Whether or not the charge 
for the accommodations is exorbitant may be reckoned from 
the following passage in Fynes Iforyson's lUmrary, 1617, 
p. 61 : * In the hmes men of inferiour condition vse to eate 
at the Host's Table, and pay som six pence ameale : but 
Gentlemen have their chambers, and eate alone, except 
perhaps they have consorts and friends in their company, 
and of their acquaintance. If they be accompanied, perhaps 
their reckoning may commonly come to some two shillings 
a man, and one that eates alone in his owne chamber with 
one or two servants attending him, perhaps vpon reckoning 
may spend some five or six shillings for supper and break- 
fast. . . . One horses meate will come to twelve pence, or 
eighteene pence the night for Hay, Oates and Straw.' 

1 90 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act m 

164. to pay. The infinitive active is often found where 
we use the passive. Cf. Abbott, Shakes. GratiUy p. 259. 

166. double lug. * Mentioned by Cleveland in The Rebel 

" Or which of the Dutch States a double Jug 
Resembles most in Belly or in Beard." 

Works, p. 41, ed. 1687.' ^Dyce. 

176. I will not bate a peny. Apparently the Host thinks 
that Ralph has been fairly treated during his sojourn. CJL 
3. 164, and note. 

179. nothing but. (It is) nothing but Abbott gives num- 
erous examples of the omission oi it is m Shakespearean 
English. Cf. Shakes. Gram., p. 290. 

179. the old Knight is merrie with Ralph. Gayton, in 
speaking of the tavern-keeper in Don Quixote, chap. 3, thus 
accoimts for the proverbial merriment of mine Host : ' It is 
ordinary for Hosts to be knavishly witty, the latter being a 
set-off to the former. Much of the reckoning goes curreut 
for the Drokry of the Maker of the Bill. There is a kind 
of Leachery in neat and ingenious cozenage. It doth find 
mercy before a Judge, and applause amongst most . . . Just 
as mine Host is here, so is every Host almost upon all rodes 
of the Temper with his Guest \ he is a Knight errant wM 
a Knight errant; Are you a Cavaliere, he is a Cavaliere. . . . 
They are the veriest Apes in the World, and to be short, 
generally Bonii Socii, and very Sofia's : Like guest, like Land- 
lord.' Festivotis Notes Upon Don Quixote, p. 8. 

183. Sir Knight* this mirth of yours becomes you welL 
Ralph's obtuseness regarding the reckoning eclipses even 
that of Don Quixote upon leaving the inn in Bk. 3, chap. 3. 
Cf Introd., pp. XLI-II. 

185. But to requite this noble curtesie. Don Quixote 
similarly offers to give a knightly recompense for his enter- 
tainment Cf. Introd., p. XLL 

186-8. If any of your Squires will follow annes» Hee shall 
receiue from my heroicke hand A Enig^t-hood. It will be 
recalled that Don Quixote was much afiSicted until he was 

ACTm] Notes 191 

dubbed knight, 'forasmuch as he was fully persuaded that 
he could not lawfully enterprise, or foUow any adventure, 
until he received, the order of knighthood ' (Bk. 1, chap. 2). 
All the chivalric heroes, before they enter into the fiill swing 
of their adventures, see to it that they become knighted. 
Amadis says : ' Sir, it behoves me to obtain knighthood, that 
I may win honour and the praise of prowess. The king 
saw him, how fair he was, and approaching him said, Would 

you receive the order of knighthood ? 1 would In the 

name of Gkxl, then ! and may He order it that it be well 
bestowed on you .... Then, putting on the right spur, he 
said, now are you a knight, and may receive the sword. 
The king took the sword and gave it him, and the child 
girded it on* (Bk. 1, chap. 5). In Don Quixote, the cere- 
mony is more familiar to us : the host who performs it deals 
blows upon the neck and shoulders with his sword. 

189. Faire Knight I thanke you for your noble offer. 
Don Quixote's host is less courteous than Ralph's. Cf. Introd., 
p. XLIL 

190. Therefore gentle Knight. *The incomplete sense 
shows that some words which preceded "Therefore" have 
dropt out from the second line.' Dyce. 

190. gentle Knight. A very frequent formula in the ro- 
mances. Cf. AnuuUs, Bk. 1, chap. 19: *Ah, gentU knight^ 
God protect thee and give thee reward.' 

195. let him go snickvp. Cf. 2. 87, and note. 

197. theres your mony, hane yon any thing to say to 
Baph now? This solution of the difficulty has no parallel 
in Don Quixote. C£ Introd., p. XLIL 

210. when your youth comee home, ftc. The housewife 
was the great ally of the doctor in the old times. A still- 
room was a common department in the Elizabethan house. 
There the good woman of the house concocted numerous 
specifics for the family's use, and found, in so doing, one 
of her most regular employments. The medical superstitions 
of the age were numerous, and the strange remedies which 
the Wife proposes for ills in various parts of our play are 
a faithful reflection of ideas current in her day. 

1 92 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act m 

Thombury has some interestmg pages on the domestic 
medicine of the Elizabethan age in his Shakespeare's Eng- 
land, VoL 2, chap. 14. 

211. let him mb all the solea of his feet9» and the hedM^ 
and his ancles, with a monse skinne. I have been able to 
get no information r^;arding the belief that a mouse's skin 
was remedial for chilblains. Some curious superstitions re- 
garding other medical uses of mice are recorded in an old 
book by one Robert LoveU, published in 1661. Its title is 
Panzoologicofnineralogia, or a Compleat History of Animals 
and Minerals. The foUowing extract is taken from Notes 
and Queries, Series 1, VoL 4, p. 62 : *The flesh eaten causeth 
oblivion, and corrupteth the meat ; yet those of Chalecut eat 
them; it is hot, soft, and fattish, and expeUeth melancholy. 
... A mouse dissected and applied, draweth out reeds, 
darts, and other things that stick in the flesh. . . . Blice 
bruised, and reduced to the consistence of an acopon, with 
old wine, cause hair on the eyebrows. . . . Being eaten by 
children when rosted, they dry up the spitde. The magic- 
ians eat them twice a month against the pains of the teeth. 
The water in which they have been boiled helps against 

the quinsey The fresh blood kills warts. The ashes of 

the skin, applied with vinegar, help the paines of the head 
The head worn in a cloth, helps the headache and epilepsy.' 
There is more of the same sort, to the extent of nearly three 
closely printed pages. 

217. if 8 very soneraigne for his head if he be costiiie. 
The virtue of smelling to the toes is a feature in folk-lore 
medicine upon which I have found no information. Smelling 
to unlikely ciuratives, however, seems not to have been un- 
common. In Lovell's Compleat History of Am'mals and 
Minerals, p. 80, quoted above, 3. 211, we are told that the 
dung of a * Horse hindereth too much bleeding, after phle- 
bomie, being applied: So smelling to' 

226. light. The word is an obsolete pp. of the verb to 
light. It is unwarrantably altered to lit by ed. 1778 and Weber. 

228. Dwarfe beare my shield. Squire eleoate my lanoe. 
Portions of the armoiu- wer^ regularly borne by the knighf s 

Acrm] Notes 193 

attendants. Thus in Palmerin de Otiva : ' In the morning they 
arose, and armed themselves, all save their Helmets and 
Lances, which their Squires carried.' Elsewhere, we read 
of two squires who carry the hero's helmet, shield, and mace ; 
and, in Palmerin of England, of a squire who bears the 
shield and helmet 

232. speaks worthy Knight, If ought yon do of sad ad- 
uentnres know. Cf. the speech which Gayton in his FesU- 
vous Notes, p. 83, causes Don Quixote to utter upon leaving 
the inn: 

High Constable of this large Castle, kown, 
I cannot pay you, what I present owe 
For all the favours shewne, for the sweet oyles. 
Yet frsLgrant on my woimds got in late broyles. 
But chiefly for the Queens aSfections, 
And for your Daughters gentle frictions. 
Never was Knight so handled: wherefore say, 
(For new adventures call your guest away) 
Is there a Miscreant who hath dar'd to blast 
Your Queen or Daughter, as they were tmchast; 
Or tiiat your selfe are of no noble spirit, 
(Coiuteous above almost Knights-errants merit) 
Shew me the Varlet that I may confotmd him. 
Before I go to fight the world so round in. 

244. Against no man, bat forious fiend of helL Against 
a creature who is not a man, but a furious fiend of helL 

246. For heere I vow vpon my blazing badge, Hener to 
blase a day in qnietnesse. Weber reminds the reader that 
in the romance of Perceforest (edit. 1631, Vol. 1, chap. 41) 
Alexander the Great and his chivalry take an oath that 
they will never rest one day in one place until the great 
quest is accomplished. 

247. blase. Dyce reasonably conjectures that the word is 
a misprint, occasioned by the eye of the original compositor 
having caught the word 'blazing' in the preceding line. 
He says the sense seems to require 'lose' or 'pass.' This 
is true; nevertheless it is consistent with the context to re- 
gard the word as meaning to shine resplendently, whereby 
Ralph would mean that he would not be content to sit in 
idleness, resplendent with his armor and his blazing badge, &c. 


1 94 The Knight of the Burning Pestk [act m 

248. Bat bread and water will I onely eate, kc Ci. Don 
Quixote, Bk. 2, chap. 2: *But when Don Quixote saw that 
the visor of his helmet was broken, he was ready to run 
mad ; and, setting his hand to his sword, and lifting up his 
eyes to heaven, he said : " I vow to the Creator of all things, 
and to the four gospels where they are largest written, to 
lead such another life as the great Marquis of Mantua did, 
when he swore to revenge the death of his nephew Valdo- 
vinus; which was not to eat on table-cloth nor sport with 
his wife, and other things, which, although I do not now 
remember, I give them here for expressed, until I take 
complete revenge on him that hath done me this outrage.' 

* Pellicer, in his excellent edition of Don Quixote, observes, 
that Cervantes either did not recoUect or purposely altered 
the vow of the Marquis, which he subjoins from an old 
ballad, and which was, never to comb his hair, nor cut his 
beard, nor to change his dress, nor but on new shoes, never 
to enter any town or village, not to take off his armour, 
unless to wash his body; never to eat upon a table-doth, 
nor sit down at a table, till he had revenged Baldovinos.' 

Bread and water would not have seemed a hard diet to 
Don Quixote. He gives Sancho Panza to understand that 
'it is an honour for knights-errant not to eat in a month's 
space; and if by chance they should eat, to eat only of 
that which is next at hand.* In the books of knight-errantry, 
the heroes did never eat ' but by mere chance and adven- 
txu'e, or in some costly banquets that were made for them 
and all other days they passed over with herbs and roots;' 
and though it is to be understood that they could not live 
without meat, yet, since they spent the greater part of their 
lives in forests and deserts, ' their most ordinary meats were 
but coarse and rustical' 

249. And the greene hearbe and rocke shall be my conch. 
The knights' predilection for hard couches is a recurrent 
motive. Cf. Palnterin of England, Part 2, chap. 121 : * Here 
they alighted, ... the knight having retired farther into 
the wood, that he might leave them to themselves; and 

Acrm] Notes 195 

throwing himself at the foot of the tree, with his helmet for 
a pillcw, began to think of Lionarda.' 

254. There doth stand a lowly house. ' Something seems 
to have dropt out here. Sympson's "anonymous friend" 

"A mansion Ihere doth stand, a lonely house, ^^ observ- 
ing that afterwards *"tis called a tnansionJ'^ Dyce. 

255. a Cane, In which an ongly (Jyant now doth won. 
Giants and wild men in the romances habitually inhabit caves 
or dark and forbidding castles. 'The Savage man* who 
carries off the infant Palmerin in the first chapters of Pat- 
nterin 0/ England dwells in a cave. One of the giants whom 
Palmerin overcomes is known as * Daliagem of the Dark Cave.' 

257. Barharoso. The play upon the word barber (from 
Latin barba, a beard) is evident 

Resounding and mouth-filling names were ordinarily given 
to the giants. In Palmerin of England^ for instance, we 
read of the giants Pavoroso, Miraguardo, Dramuziando, &c. 
Don Quixote imagines himself slaying the giant Caraculiam- 
bro, lord of the island called Malindriana. Cf. Bk. 1, chap. 1. 

263. A copper hason, on a prickant speare. A ' prickant 
spear ' is an ' upward pointing ' spear. C£ Glossary. The 
phrase as here used is an euphemism for barber^s pole. The 
copper basin was a common trade-sign, used to indicate 
blood-letting, &c., in the days when the barber and surgeon 
were one. ' In cities and corporate towns they still retain the 
name of Barber Chirurgeons. They therefore used to hang their 
basons upon poles, to make known at distance to the weary 

and wounded traveller where all might recourse.' Athenian 

Oracle 1. 834. 

In the British Apollo, foL, Lond. 1708, VoL 1, no. 3, there 
is an explanation of the origin of the custom : 

In ancient Rome, when men lov'd fighting. 
And wounds and scars took much delight in, 
Man-menders then had noble pay. 
Which we call surgeons to this day. 
Twas ordered that a huge long pole. 
With bason deck'd, should grace the hole, 


1 96 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act m 

To euide the wounded, who unlopt 
Could walk, on stumps the others hopt 

268. Engine. It is perhaps needless to say that ^e con- 
text shows that the Host is referring to the barber's comb. 

Dekker would have it that the gallants and it is gallants 

whom Ralph is to deliver from Barbaroso considered it 

ill-advised to comb the hair. He says {GulTs Hornbook, 
chap. 3) : 'To maintaine therefore that sconce [L e. heed\ 
of thine strongly guarded, and in good reparation, never 
suffer combe to £sisten his teethe there: let thy haire grow 
thick and bushy like a forrest, or some wildemesse; lest 
those sue-footed creatures that breede in it, and are Tenants 
to that crowne-land of thine, bee himted to dea^ by every 
barbarous Barber; and so that delicate, and tickling pleasure 
of scratching, be vtterly taken from thee.' 

270. Next makes him winke. For the purpose of an- 
ointing his eyes with perfumed water. 'Your eyes closed 
must be anointed therewith also.' Stubbes, Anai. of Ab- 
uses 2.60. 

271. brazen peeoe of mighty bord. *"I conjecture the 
poets intende to say bore; so the cavity of a gun, cannon, &&, 

is commonly called." Sympson, (who, it may be mentioned 

as a remakable instance of obtuseness, did not perceive 

that the utensil here spoken of is the barber's basin, bat 

supposed it to be a piece of ordnance: he accordingly 

printed " bore " in the text ; and was foUowed by the Editors 
of 1778.' — Dyce. 

After all, as Dyce points out, bord as here used is a cor- 
ruption of the archaic word bore, meaning ' the calibre or 
internal diameter of a hole or perforation, whether made by 

boring or not' Cent. Did. The term is especially applied 

to the cavity of a g^un or tube. Cf. Drayton, Noah's Flood 
(ed. 1680), p. 108: 

Beside th'Artillery 
Of fourscore pieces of a mighty Boare. 

The barber's basin was ' a basin or bowl formerly used in 
shaving, having a broad rim with a semicircular opening to 

Acrni] Notes i97 

fit the neck of the customer, who held it, while the barber 
made the lather with his hand and applied it directly: still 
in use in some parts of Europe as a barber's sign.' Cent. Diet. 

272. bullets. In obsolete use, a bullet, as the term is here 
employed, means a small ball. C£ Glossary. Cf. Lyte, 
Dodoeus 1. 8. 15, 1578: 'Upon the branches of the burdock 
there groweth small bullets or rounde bcUles^ Again, the 
word baU, in a specific obsolete use, means a spherical 
piece of soap. Cf. Glossary. Soap seems regularly to have 
been molded in this shape. In our passage, the reference is to 
the barber's lather-balls. The old plays and pamphlets have 
many references to soap-balls: 

As a barber wasteth his Ball in the water. — Nashe, 

Christ s Tears, p. 26. 
A half-witted barbarian, which no barber's art, or his 

baUs wiU ever expunge or take out Ben Jonson, 

Magnetic Lady 2. 1. 
A bau to scour a scouring ball a ball to be shaved. 

DtUch Courtezan 8. 8. 

273. Whilst with his fingers, and an instrument 
With which he snaps his haire off, he doth fill 
The wretches eares with a most Udeous noise. 

The snapping or 'knacking' of the fingers, or the shears, 
was a common trick of the barbers. It is often given liter- 
ary notice. 

The barbers 'gallery-play' with the shears excites the 
wrath of S^bbes, Anat. of Abuses 2. 60: 'Besides that, 
when they come to the cutting of the haire, what snipping 
and snapping of the cysers is there, what tricking and toying, 
and al to towe out mony, you may be sure.' 

281. And by that vertue that brane Bosicleere, That 
damned brood of ongly Gyants slew. Weber states that 
Ralph is here referring to a combat between Rosicler and 
the giants Bulfor and Mandroc, which is related in chap. 10, 
Bk. 4, of The Mirror of Knighthood. Cf. 1. 281, and note. 
Since Ralph speaks of a * brood ' of giants, it is more prob- 
able that he has in mind Rosicler's adventure with the 
giant Brandagedeon and his thirty knights. The story is 

198 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act m 

told in chap. 36 of Bk. 1. Rosicler g^oes forth to avenge 
a number of damsels whom Brandagedeon has molested. 
In the engagement, the giant is on the point of being slain, 
when his knights come to the rescue. So valorous and 
mighty of arm is Rosicler that in a trice he fells to eardi 
ten of these assailants. He soon has slain ten more, and 
holds out against the remainder until one of the damsds 
has summoned two other errant knights to his rescue. Mean- 
while he has overcome and decapitated the giant himself. 
His strength begins to wane, but, with the arrival of aid, 
he revives, and the whole of Brandagedeon^s company is 
put to the sword. 

283. And Palmerin Frannarco onerthrew. This incident 
is fidly described in the passage from Palmerin de OHva 
already quoted. Cf. 1. 231, and note. 

291. Saint Oeorge set on before. Nares prints the fol- 
lowing injunction, from an old art of war, concerning the 
use of the name of St George in onsets: 'Item, that all 
souldiers entering into battaile, assault, skirmish, or other 
factions of armes, shall have for their common cry and word. 
St. George, forward, or, upon them St. George, whereby 
the souldier is much comforted, and the enemie dismaied, 
by calling to mind the ancient valour of England, which 
with that name has so often been victorious, &c. Cited by 
Warton in a note on Rich. III. Act. 5, sc. 3.' Cf. 3. 369, 
and note. 

295. I hold mj cap to a farthing. A similar form of 
wager is found in Lodge and Greene's Looking Glass for 
London and England, p. 83 {Greene's Dram. Wks, ed. Dj'ce) : 
'/ hold my cap to a noble, that the userer hath given him 
some gold.' 

296. the great Dutch-man. 'Dutchman was a generick 
name in Decker's day, given to any one belonging to the 
German continent ' (note in Nott's ed. of the Gull's Hornbook, 
1812, p. 7). 

'The great Dutchman "was possibly," Weber sa^'s, "the 
same person who is mentioned as *the German fencer* in 
S. Rowley's Noble Spanish Soldier, as *the high German* 

ACT raj Notes 199 

in Middleton and Dekker*s Roaring Gtrl, &c." I think not. 
" The great Dutchman " of our text seems to be described 
in the following passage of Stow. " This yeare 1681 were 
to be seene in London 2 Dutchmen of strange statures, the 
one m height seven foote and seven inches, in breadth be- 
twixt the shoulders 8 quarters of a yard and an inch, the 
compass of his breast one yard and halfe and two inches, 
and about the wast one yard quarter and one inch, the 
length of his arme to the hand a full yard ; a comely man 
of person, but lame of his legges (for he had broken them 

with lifting of a barrell of beere)." Annates, p. 694. ed. 

1616. The other Dutchman was a dwarf.' Dyce. 

301. and a Knight met. * Altered to "on a night met''' 
by Sympson, who hopes the correction " will be allowed by 
every candid and judicious reader: night being the time 
when these men-monsters remove from place to place, thereby 
spoiling their market by exposing to common view what 
they would have the world pay dearly for the sight of." 
And so the Editors of 1778. Weber gave the reading of 
the old eds., observing that " perhaps the authors alluded to 
some known anecdote." Qy. have the words " and a knight " 
been shuffled out of their right place in the sentence ? and 
ought we to read, " and yet they say there was a Scotch- 
man and a knight higher than he, and they two met, and 
saw one another for nothing"?' Dyce. 

802. of all the sights. The Wife's sensational enthusiasm 
here reflects the fondness of her class for seeing rare and 
abnormal creatures. 

Among the attractions at the show in Ben Jonson's Bar- 
tholomew Fair were the bull with five legs, the great hog, 
the dog that danced the morris, and the hare which played 
on the tabor : 8. 1 ; 6. 4. 

Jonson, in The Alchemist 6. 1, satirizes the persistent, often 
indecorous, curiosity of the citizens and their wives for 
unusual sights: 

Lovewit. What should my knave advance 

To draw this company? he hung out no banners 

Of a strange calf with five legs to be seen, 

200 The Knigfu of the Burning Pestle [act m 

Or a huge lobster with six daws? .... 

Sure he has got 

Some bawdy pictures to call all this ging; 

The friar and the nun; or ^e new motion 

Of the knight's courser coverinf^ ^e parson's mare; 

The boy of six year old with the great thing : 

Or^ may be, he has the fleas that run at tih 

Upon a table, or some dog to dance. 

Gifibrd in his note on this passage of ^e Akhemisi says: 
'The "curiosities" which he enumerates are not imaginary 
ones; they were actually exhibited in London, and ^ledfic 
mention of them respectively, might easily be produced from 
the writers of those times. There is much pleasant satire 
on this head in the Cify Match, and the Knight of the Bmrmt^ 
Pestk: C£ fruther The Tempest 2. 2. 

Mayne's Cify Match, printed in 1688, is an extravagant 
frurce, much of the ftm of which turns upon the exhibition of 
a drunken vagabond, Timothy, before the public, as a talking 
fish. The play is an elaborate satire on public credulity over 
fantastic sights. 

904. the little child, Ac Dyce maintaias that diis is die 
boy mentioned in Jonson's Akhemist in the passage quoted 
above in note to 3. 802. Fleay agrees with Dyce. Cfl Biog. 
Chr. 1. 183. 

305. Hermaphrodite. Morley speaks of a hermaphrodite 
which was exhibited at the King's Head, a tavern on Fish 
Street Hill over against the Mews' Gate, Charing Cross. 
Memoirs of Bartholomew Fair, p. 324. *The hermaphro- 
dite, iii, 2, was no doubt " the monstrous child " bom 1609, 
July 31, at Sandwich (see S.. R. 1609, Aug. 26, 31), which 

was probably shown in London 1609-10.' Fleay , ^licjg^. Chr, 

1. 188. Fleay is speaking of our play. There is nothing in 
the Stationers* Registers to prove that the ' monstrous child ' 
was a hermaphrodite, or that it was shown in London. 

306. Nininy was better. Nineveh, with Jonas and the 
Whale, was one of the most popular of the many puppet- 
plays in vogue at the time. According to Collier, it is 
mentioned by no fewer than twenty Jacobean authors. CL 
Ben Jonson, Every Man Out of his Humour 2. 1 : * They say 

AOT m] Notes 201 

there's a new motion of the city of !^Qiieveh, with Jonas and 
the whale, to be seen at Fleet-bridge.' 

Nineveh belonged to the order of rdigioiis piqipet-diows 
which developed almost coevalty with the Mysteries and 
Moralities. These earliest ' motions ' exhibited sa ip C m al sub- 
jects from both the Old and the New Testament 

During the reign ofEBzabedi, historical and odiersecolar 
legends began to be treated in a manner similar to the scr^ 
tural themes. Among the lower orders there was distinct 
fovor shown to the 'motions,* which frequently rivaled the 
regular stage-performers at the dieatre in popolarity. The 
wooden figures were clothed like the actors at die the- 
atre, and their dumb mimicry was made to rqirodnce, 
as nearly as possible, the most soccessfal dramatic enter- 
tainments. At a later date, more invention was di^layed 
in these productions, the best illustration of nduch is the 
famous Punch and Judy, the vogue of which contiimes 
to this day. 

For illustrations of the di£Ferent ways of manipulating the 
figures, and presenting their si^q>osed dialogue, either dirough 
running commentary or through ventriloquism, c£ Ben Jonson, 
Bartholomew Fair 5. 4, and Don Quixote, Part 2, chap. 26. 
Adequate treatment of the general subject of ptq>pet-shows 
may be fotmd in CoUier's Punch a$ui Judy, London, 1878, and 
Magnin's Histoire des Marionnettes en Europe, Paris 1862. 

317. til Baph haue diqfMtch the Giant out of the way. 
Cf. variants. Till Ralph has killed the giant The expression 
is probably obsolete. N. E. D. cites Potter's Antiq. Greece, 
1697, 1. 4: 'He was quickly dispatch'd out of the way, and 
no inquiry made after the murderers.' 

819. bound to you. 'So the first 4to. Later eds. (the 
compositor's eye having caught what immediately follows) 
" bound to thank you " ; and so the modem editors.' — Dyce. 
Bound, it may be remarked, here implies obligations. Cf. 

884. fetlL An old form oi faith. Cf. Cupid's Revenge 6. 1 : 
* Ism. What is't ? if it be no great matter whether I do or 
no, perhaps I will. 

202 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act m 

Ura. Yes,feth, 'tis matter.' 

Again, Urania says: 'Why, feth, I do.' 

336. Cardans Benedictos and Mares Milke. The use of 
Carduus Benedictus as a remedy for every kind of disease 
was wide-spread in the 17th century. 

I have found no definite mention of the appliance of mare's 
milk to 'worms.' In old folk-lore medicine, its use and the 
use of horse's blood for other ailments may be gathered 
from the following quotation: 'The milk is drunk by the 
Tartars. It, as also the Asses, and cows is more fit for the 

beUy, than the sheeps which is more thick. Mares milk 

is most purging ; then the Asses, Cows, and lastly the Goats. 
Being drunk it looseneth the belly. The milk of a mare, 
helps against the poyson of a Sea Hare, . . . and helps also 
the falling sicknesse. ... It purgeth ulcers. The bath thereof 
helpeth the womb. It causeth conception being drunk. 
The whey thereof gently purgeth the body. . . . The bloud 
of a horse corrodeth the flesh by a septick strength : that 
of a colt drunk in wine helps the jaundice, being let bloud 

in the mouth and swallowing it, it cureth their worms 

The sweat of a Horse drunk in a bath driveth away worms 

and serpents.' Robert Lovell, A Compleai History of Am- 

mats and Minerals, 1661, p. 28. Cf. 3. 211, and note. 

339. Enter Raph, Host» Squire, and Dwarfe. A discussion 
of parallels in the romances to the adventure here introduced 
may be found in the Introd., pp. XLVI— LL 

342. Behold that string on which hangs many a tooth. 
Cf. The Woman-HaUr 3. 3 : 

Knock out my teeth, have them hung at a barber's. 
And enter into religion. 

Tooth-drawing was once a function of the barber-surgeons 
profession. * The barbers anciently displayed the teeth which 
they had drawn on a string or chain, which they sometimes 
wore upon their persons. In the romance of Otuel that 
champion having laid bare his adversaria's jaw by a stroke 
of his faulchion, thus gibes him, V. 1311, 

"Clarel, so mote thou the, 

Why sheuweston thi teth to me? 

ACT m] Notes 203 

I n'am no toth drawere; 

Thou ne sest me no chaine bere**^ 

[p. 71 of the ed. printed for the Abbotsford Qub, where in 

the second line, " scheuweston tki teth.'^ and Cleveland, 

in his celebrated satire, entitled 'The Rebel Scot,' ^>eaking 
of their national disposition to be mercenary soldiers, says: 

"Nature with Scots as tooth drawers hath dealt 

Who use to string their teeth upon their belt" ' Weber. 

Truewit, in Ben Jonson^s Efncoetie 3. 5, suggests that Cut- 
berd, the barber, eat ear-wax, ' or draw his owne teeth, and 
add them to the lute string.' 

345. Susan my Lady deeie. 'I say it cannot be that 
there's any knight-errant without a lady ; for it is as proper 
and essential to such to be enamoured as to heaven to have 
stars: and I dare warrant that no history hath yet been 
seen wherein is found a knight-errant without love; for, by 
the very reason that he were found without them, he would 
be convinced to be no legitimate knight, but a bastard ; and 
that he entered into the fortress of chivalry, not by the 
gate, but by leaping over the staccado like a robber and 
a thief.' Don Quixote, Bk. 2, chap. 6. 

346. The Goblen Maid. The humble capacity of Ralph's 
mistress bears an obvious resemblance to that of Don Quixote's 
Dulcinea. I do not believe, however, that the latter is Susan's 
prototype. Cf. Introd., pp. LIV— LVL 

346. Milke-streete. The street lies in Cheapside, in the 
ward of Cripplegate. Stow (Survey, p. 110) supposes that it 
was *so called of milk sold there.' 

347. let the thought of thee, Garry thy Knight through 
all aduenterous deeds. The characteristic invocation of an 
absent lady-love upon the eve of a new adventures is illu- 
strated in Palnterin of England, Part 1, chap. 41. The 
Knight of Fortune is about to enter upon a combat with 
the giant Dramuziando, when, * turning his thoughts to his 
lady Polinarda, in this manner he began to invoke her 
silently, saying, If, lady, at any time you remember me, let 
it be now, if only that I may know how by your help so 
great a victory was atchieved,' 

204 The Knigfu of the Burning Pestle [act m 

* It is a received use and custom of errant chivalry, that 
the knight adventurous who, attempting of any great feat 
of arms, shall have his lady in place, do mildly and amorously 
turn his eyes towards her, as it were by them demanding 
that she do favour and protect him in that ambiguous trance 
which he undertakes ; and, moreover, if none do hear him, 
he is botmd to say certain words between his teeth, by 
which he shall, with all his heart, commend himself to her: 
and of this we have innumerable examples in histories* 
Don Quixote, Bk. 2, chap. 6. 

d55. What fond vnknowing wight ia this? Some socfa 
form of inquiry as this is frequency addressed to the bold 
assaulter of giant or wicked knight, with the effect of calling 
forth from the attacking hero a proud announcement of his 
name, and a scathing denunciation of his opponent's perfidy. 

In Antadis, Bk. 1, chap. 19, Angriote of Estravus ' looked 
from a window and asked Amadis, Art thou he who hast 
slain my jaylor and my servants? Art thou he, answered 
Amadis, who so treacherously murderest knights and im- 
prisonest dames and damsels ? thou art the most disloyal and 
crueUest knight in the world ! . . . I am Amadis of Gaol, 
the knight of Queen Brisena.' 

857. Where no man come but leauea his fleece befaindf 
The barber's speech is aptly satirical of the boastful manner 
of the giants' addresses to their foes. C£ AnuuUs, Bk. 2, 
chap. 13 : ' When the giant heard him, he came towards him 
with such rage that smoke came through the vizor of his 
helmet, and he shook his boarspear with such force that its 
ends almost met Unhappy wretch! cried he, who gave 
thee boldness enough to dare appear before me? That 
Lord, quoth Beltenbros, whom thou hast offended, who will 
give me strength to-day to break thy pride. Come on ! come 
on ! cried the giant, and see if his power can protect thee 
from mine!' 

367. poole. The significance of the barber's pole is spec- 
ified by Larwood and Hotten, History of Signboards, p. 341 : 
* The barber's pole . . . dates from the time when barbeis 
practised phlebotomy : the patient undergoing this operation 

▲or m] Nous 205 

had to grasp the pole in order to make die Mood flow more 

freely As the pole was of course liable to be stained 

with blood, it was painted red: when not in me baibera 
were in the habit of suspending it outside tiie door widi tiie 
white linen swathing-bands twisted around it; this in latter 
times gave rise to the pole being painted red and white, or 
even with red, white, and blue lines winding round it* 
The Antiquarian Repertory, quoted by Brand, i%^. Anliq. 
8. 369, says that ' the true interpretation of the party-coloured 
staff was to show that the master of the shop practised 
surgery, and could breathe a vein as well as mow a beard.' 
The British Apollo, 1708, VoL 1, no. 8, having spoken 
of the activity of surgeons in the Roman War, goes on 
to say: 

But, when they ended all their wars. 
And men grew out of love with scars. 
Their trade decaying; to keep swimming. 
They joined the other trade of trimming ; 
And on their poles to publish either. 
Thus twisted both their trades together. 

868. Saint George for me. C£ 8. 291, and note. The in- 
vocation of St George in wars and lesser combats was common 
long before his establishment as the patron of England in 
the reign of Edward IH Richard the lion-hearted was sup- 
posed to have been successful in the Crusades because of 
the saint's response to his £4>peals for aid. Shakespeare 
makes frequent use of the name in war-cries : 

Then strike up drums: Grod and Saint George for us! 

J Henry VI, 2. i. 

My royal feither, cheer these noble lords 
And hearten those that fight in your defence: 
Unsheathe your sword, good feither ; cry ' Saint George ! ' 

J Henry VI, 2. 2. 

Harry! England! and Saint George! 

Henry V, 8. 1. 

870. Oargantua for me. Gargantua, Rabelais' great satir- 
ical romance, appeared in 1686. It achieved early popu- 

2o6 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act m 

larity in England It is with evident satirical purpose that 
this hero of a travesty is here invoked as a tutelary patroa 
and set off against St. George, the conventionalized guardian 
of chivalric knights. Moreover, Gargantua, being himself 
a giant, is here a fitting guardian of a supposed scion of 
his race. 

371. hold vp the Giant. C£ Glossary. 

872. set out thy leg before. I was at first inclined to 
suppose this direction to be an antiquated fencing term, but 
being unable to find evidence substantiating my conjecture, 
I have concluded that the Wife is simply warning Ralph to 
fortify himself by placing or planting his leg firmly in fitmt 
of him. This meaning of the phrase set out, however, is 
not noted in the dictionaries. 

373. Falsifie a blow. An obsolete fencing term for feign 
a blow ; to make a blow under cover of a feint of aiming at 
one part of the adversary when another is the real object 
of attack. Cf. King and No King 1. 2 : ' You lay thus, and 
Tigranes falsified a blom at your leg, which you, by doing 
thus, avoided.' 

375. Beare't off. In obsolete use, the phrase to bear off 
means to resist and cause (a stroke) to rebound. C£ Glossary. 

*His Helmet, to beare off blowes in battelL' ^Milton, 

Church Disciplined 

%11, Susan inspire me. Cf. 3. 347, and note. In similar 
fsishion, Amadis is able to overcome a giant, seemingly be- 
cause of the sustaining remembrance of his lady. Cf. Bk. 3. 
chap. 2 : * Amadis who feared him greatly, seeing how mon- 
strous he was, and commending himself to God, he said, 
Now Oriana lady mine, it is time to be succoured by you ! 
.... for he would attack the giant, and fitted his lance under 
his arm and ran at him in fiill career, and smote him so 
rudely on the breast that he made him fall back upon the 
crupper.' Invocations of lady-loves in the heat of combat 
are part of the regular machinery of the romances. 

377. now haue vp againe. This singular expression is not 
noticed in the dictionaries. The context would seem to show 
that Ralph is trying to stand erect He is apparently speak- 

ACT m] Notes 207 

ing to himself, and the phrase seems to mean: 'Stand up! 
Get up again!' 

382. get all out of him finit. The Citizen means that 
Ralph ought first to draw out of the giant the complete 
account of his * treacherous villanies.' 

390. Auemns. Lake Avemus in Campania, Italy, nine 
miles west of Naples, was anciently regarded as an entrance 
to Hades, because of its wild and gloomy aspect 

401. a Bason vnder his chin. Cf. 3. 263, 271, and note. 

404. wilde. Ed. 1778 and Weber read Vile. Dyce has 
Vild, an obsolete corruption of vik, and adduces as evidence 
of its occasional employment by Beaumont and Fletcher two 
or three passages from other plays. However, wild makes 
sufficiently good sense, and I see no reason for rejecting it 
which can outweigh the assumption that an original read- 
ing wherein no confusion is involved is correct 

405. heard. In 17 th century English, the simple past is 
sometimes used for the complete present ' This is in accord- 
ance with the Greek use of the aorist, and it is as logical 
as our more modem use. The difference depends upon 
a difference of thought, the action being regarded simply 
as past, without reference to the present or to completion.^ 

Abbott, Shakes. Gram., p. 246. Cf. Much Ado 1. 2 : * I can 

teU you strange news that you yet dreamed not of.' 

407. Speake what thou ari» and how thou hast hene vs'd. 
Cf. Don Quixote, Bk. 3, chap. 8: 'One of the guardians 
a horseback answered that they were slaves condemned by 
his majesty to the galleys, and there was no more to be said. 
. . . . " For all that," replied Don Quixote, " I would fain learn 
of every one of them in particular the cause of his disgrace." 
The guards said to him : '* Draw you nearer and demand it 
of themselves." . . . With this Ucense, which Don Quixote would 
have taken although they had not given it him, he came to 
the chain, and demanded of the first for what offence he 
went in so ill a guise.' 

Ralph's succeeding inquiries are also paralleled in Don 
Quixote's conversation with the slaves, but the similarity is 

2o8 The Kji^Ai§/ske BMnmgPesdt [ACtm 

D o n li c ie yrtxj dose. The in le nogat ipg of rdeased caqniv t * 
is commoo m the f o manrcgL C£ Introd, pp. XL VI-LL 

409. Ikat ttat I M17 giM coaiigM f ■MiwimI Hbs 
fine was cmendfid by Q^ Ct variauta . 

410. I a a Kmgiit ttat tooto 1^ ioaiiBj post HorO- 
waacd from London. 'Id Emgkmd towards tbe Soudu and 
in the West parts, and from Ltmtkm to Barmick, Vpoo die 
confines of Scoikmd, BostJurses are established at every ten 
miks or diereabonts, which they ride a frJse gallop after 
some ten miks an hower sometimes, and diat makes dieir 
hire die greater.' ^Fynes Moryaon. IHmrway, 1617, p. 6L 

415. and cut awmyy boariU iuBd mj cnrfd lockanwinwia 
were ribands tfde. This passage ridicnles die ft^ypii^frishioas 
in hair-dressing and beard-trimming which were in Yogne 
among the gallants of die time. The styks are weD de- 
scribed in Lyly's Mydas a. 2: 'How win yon be trimmed sir? 
'WaH you have yoor beard Hke a ^>ade, or a bodkin? 
A pent-^oose on yoor upper fip, or an alley on yoor chin? 
A low carle on yoor heade like a ball, or dangling locks 
like a ^[MUiiell? Your mnstachoes sharp at the ends like 
shoemakers aides, or hanging down to your mondi like 
goates flakes? Yoor hoe-locks wreathed wiih a silken twist 
or shaggie to &I1 on your Moulders?* C£ Davenant, Lofve 
and Honour: 'A lock on the left side, so rarely hung widi 
ribanding.' Stobbes, Anat. of Abuses 2. 40, has much to say 
about the many 'strange ftishions and monstrous manneis 
of cuttings, trimmings,' &C., which stir his indignation. 

417. with a water waaht my tender eyes. Perfumed 
water and soap-baUs were in especial £eivor with the gallants. 
C£ Dekker, Seven Deadly Sinnes (tflis. 2. 62): 'No, no, be 
not angry with me (O you that bandie away none but 
sweete washing Balles, and cast none other then Rose-water 
for any mans pleasure).' 

Dekker counts shaving among the seven deadly sins of 
London, and his book contains a characteristicaUy diverdng 
chapter on the subject Stubbes, Anat. of Abuses 2.60, 
cries out against perfumed soaps and waters: 'And ixdien 
they come to washing, oh how gingerly they behave 

ACT m] Notes 209 

themselves therein. For then shall your mouth be bossed 
with lather, or fome that riseth of the balles (for they have 
their sweete biUks wherewith all they vse to washe); your 
eyes closed must be anoitUed therewith also. . . . You shall 
have also your orient perfumes for your nose, your /ragratU 
waters for your face, wherewith you shall bee sdl to be 

420. With a dry death. 'Your eyes closed must be a- 
nointed therewith [i. e. perfumed soaps] also. Then snap go 
the fingers, fill bravely, God wot Thus this tragedy ended, 
comes me wartne clothes to wipe and dry him withalL' — Stubbes, 
Anai. of Abuses 2. 61. 

420. for this my foole disgrace. The gallants could ill 
brook any shearing of their locks. Dekker reveals the in- 
ordinate pride they took in long, and even unkempt, hair, 
' whose length before the rigorous edge of any puritanicall 
paire of scizzers should shorten the breadth of a finger, let 
the three huswifely spinsters of Destiny rather curtail the 
thread of thy life. . . • How Vgly is a bald pate? it lookes 
like a face wanting a nose ; or, like ground eaten bare with 
the arrows of Arches, whereas a head all hid in haire gives 
even to a most wicked face a sweet proportion, and lookes 
like a meddow newly marryed to the Spring. . . . Certain 
I am, that when none but the golden age went currant vpon 
earth, it was higher treason to clip haire, then to clip money : 
the combe and scizers were condemned to the cunying of 
hackneyes: he was disfiranchised ever, that did but put on 
a Barbers apron' {J^he Gulfs Hornbook, chap. 3). 

425. one with a patch ore his Nose. The episode here 
introduced deals with a man who is in an advanced stage 
of the French pox, or syphilis, in England called simply the 
pox. This disease was so prevalent throughout Europe in 
the 15th century as to be epidemic, ignorant people becoming 
infected in many innocent ways. The more terrible type was 
practically checked during the 16th century, though as late 
as 1579, one William Qowes, in a treatise addressed to bar- 
bers and chiruigeons, says that, owing to the enormity of 
licentiousness then rife in London, at the hospital where he 


210 The Knighi of the Burning Pestle [act m 

was an attendant 'among every twentye diseased persons 
that are taken in, fifteen of them have the pocks.' For this 
citation and for an account of the features and history of 
the malady, c£ Creighton, History of Epidemics in Britain, 
Vol. 1, chap. 8. 

The part played by barbers in the cure of the pox may 
be indicated by two extracts: 

O Esculape ! how rife is phisike made, 
When ech Brasse-basen can professe tiie trade 
Of ridding pockie wretches m>m their paine. 
And doe the beastly cure for ten-groat gaine. 

Hall, Vir^demiarum 4. 1. 162. 

Truewit, in Ben Jonson's Epicoene 8. 6, asks Morose why 
the latter should not lay a few curses upon the head of 
a certain barber whom he hates : ' As, that he may get the 
poxe with seeking to cure it, sir?' 

428. acorcht. C£ variants. 'Scotch'd L e. cut, nearly 

synonymous with "scor'd." The correction of Theobald 
and Sympson. Old eds. " scorcht" ' — r-Dyce. The old eds. 
are right In Cent. Did, scor(t)ch is given as an obsolete 
form of scotch. Cf. Babees Book (E. E. T. S.), p. 80 : 

Afore thy meat, nor afterward. 
With knyfe scortche not the Boorde. 

483. I am a Londoner Free by m j Coppy. The 2d Knight 
means that he is in full citizenship, according to his copy 
of the official document whereby he was admitted into the 
freedom of the City. 

434. my Ancestors Were French-men alL 'Alluding to the 

name of the knight' Weber. The French pox issued 

from France, chiefly, during the periods when it was epi- 
demic. Hence its name. 

436. mj bones did ake. Disease of the bones is one of 
the late developments of syphilis, a stage known as 'ter- 
tiary syphilis.* 

438. Light Obsolete preterite of the verb to kght. CL 
Glossary. Unwarrantably altered by ed. 1778 and Weber 
to 'Lit' 

ACTin] Notes 211 

440. Did out the gristle of my Nose away. One of the 
early accounts printed by Creighton speaks of victims of 
syphilis 'whose very noses were eaten off.' 

441. Telnet plaister. The covering of wounds with pieces 
of velvet is a custom ridiculed by Shakespeare, Alts IVell 
That Ends Well 4. 6 : ' O madam, yonder's my lord your 
son with a patch of velvet on's feice : whether there be a scar 
under't or no, the velvet knows ; but ' tis a goodly patch of 
velvet : his left cheek is a cheek of two pile and a hal( but 
his right cheek is worn bare.' Women long continued the 
ridiculous habit of wearing patches for ornamentation. At 
the time of our play men, that is, coxcombs, also wore them. 

454. in diet keepe. During the treament of the pox, the 
patients were kept on a strict diet Ben Jonson speaks of 
Shift, in Every Man Out of his Humour, as ' a thread-bare 
shark,' who all the while 'was taking the diet in a bawdy 

455. Caue. 'Some epithet belonging to this word seems 
to have been dropt out' — Dyce. 

456. in a Tub that's heated smoaldng hot. Syphilis patients 
were ordinarily placed in sweating-tubs as a means of cure. 
Cf. Timon of Athens 4. 8 : 

Be a whore still! they love thee not that use thee; 
Give them diseases, . . . season the slaves 
For tubs and baths; bring down rose-cheeked youth 
To the tubfast and the met 

'The process of sweating patients so a£Bicted is often 
mentioned in our old plays, and with a variety of jocular 
allusions.' Dyce. 

461. afeard. Modem eds. read afraid Cf. variants. A- 
feard is stiU used by uneducated people. Its retention in our 
passage would, it seems to me, have been advisable, since 
the word would have been in keeping with the colloquial 
and dialectal tone of the Wife's speech. 

467. a Witch* that had the dinels marke abont her. It 
was a popular superstition that witches were branded by the 
devil A^. E. Z>. cites from Newes fr. Scotld. Life <S* Z>. Dr. 
Fian, written 1592, this sentence : ' They suspecting that she 


212 The Knighi ofihe Burning Pestle [act m 

had beene marked by the Dwell (as commonly witches are) 
. . . fomid the enemies marke to be in her fore crag.' 

468. Gk>d Ueflse yb. CI 2. 349, and note. 

469. Lob-l]a-by-th6-flre. Aknost nothing at all is known 
of this giant sprite. Whatever oral traditions about him may 
have prevailed seem never to have found a written statement 
Warton is disposed to identify the sleepy giant here men- 
tioned with 'the lubber fiend' of Milton's U Allegro, and 
Weber conjectures that he is suggested by the son of the 
wicked witch in Bk. 8 of the Faerie Queen, Canto 7, st 12 : 

A laesie loord, for nothing grood to donne, 
But stretched forth in idlenesse alwayes. 

Dyce points out the insecurity of these surmises. 

The term hb, like the term bibber^ seems to convey some 
suggestion of heaviness or dullness, but the etymolc^^r and 
real significance of the word are uncertain. 

Farewell thou lob of spirits [L e. Puck] ; Fll be gone. 

Mid. Sum. Nights Dream 2. 1. 

But as the drone the honey hive doth rob, 
With worthy books so deads this idle lob. 

Gascoigne, A Remembrance. 

Cf. Keightley, Fairy Mythology, p. 818, and Mrs. J. R Ewing, 
Lob-lie-by^the-fire, Introduction. 

474. heere comes the prisoners. According to Abbott, 
Shakes. Gram., p. 237, passages in old plays in which a quasi- 
singular verb precedes the plural subject are very common, 
especially ' when the subject is as yet fixture, and, as it were, 

Here comes the townsmen. 2 Henry IV 2. 1. 

There comes no swaggerers here. 2 Henry IV 2. 4. 

' This [i. e. the latter citation], it is true, comes firom Mrs. 
Quickly, but the foUowing are fi-om Posthtunus and Valentine : 

" How comes these staggerers on me ? " Cymb. V. 6. 233. 

"Far behind his worth 
Comes all the praises that I now bestow." ^T.G.ofV.IL4.72.' 

488. Tome-lrall-streete. The street is property known as 

ACTin] Notes 213 

TummilL It lies between Clerkenwell Green and Cow Cross. 
At the time of our play it was the haunt of prostitutes and 
other low characters. Falstaff says of Shallow : ' This same 
starved justice hath done nothing but prate to me of the 
wildness of his youth, and the feats he hath done about 

TumbuU Streets 2 Henry IV S. 2. Knockem, one of Ben 

Jonson's characters in Bartholomew Fair, is ' a horse-courser 
and a ranger in Tumbu/V 

484. bore her vp and downe. Possibly this is an illustration 
of the old-time custom of searching out women of ill-£ame 
on Shrove Tuesday, and carting them about the towns, 
thereby making them the butts of all sorts of buffoonery 
and abuse. Cf. 6. 863, and note. 

488. put VB in a Tub, Where we this two monthes sweate. 
As patients suffering from syphilis. C£ 8. 466, and note. 
' A view of such a patient in his tub, looking very wretched 
and pensive, warning ofif some bona robas, who have come 
to visit him in his adBEIiction, is to be seen as a frontispiece 
to Randolph's ComeUanum Dolium, 1688, 12 mo. In my 
copy, in an antique hand, is written 

Young man, take warning by my fate, 
To lead a chaste and virtuous Ufe; 
All wanton peats' allurements hate. 
And cleave unto thy wedded wife. 
To Cicely, Susan, or to Kate. 
So may you 'scape the bitter ills 
Of Esculapius' searching pills.' 
^J, Mitford, Cursory Notes on Beaumont and Fletcher, p. 14. 

491. This bread and water hath our diet bene. This 
carries out the testimony of Creighton, who quotes a pre- 
scription which specifies a thin diet and a decoction of 

498. through this same slender qnilL Subcutaneous in- 
jection of nutriment is employed in some developments of 

508. Gentlemen I thanke yon all heartily for gracing my 
man Bafe. The Wife may well be grateful, for the trades- 
men were usually regarded with considerable contempt by 

214 The Knight of the Burmng Pestle [act m 

the gallants. In Ben Jonson's Every Man in His Humour 
2. 1, Kitely, the merchant, says of his son's dandified com- 

They mock me all over, 
From my flat cap unto my shining ^oes. 

Dekker has his gallant look upon the groundlings at the 
theatre as 'the opposed rascality' (The Gull's Hornbook, 
chap. 6). 

512. Depart then, and amend. It is a singularity wor^y 
of notice that Ralph does not send his victim, as do many 
of the heroes of the romances, and as Don Quixote attenq>ts 
to do, to do penance at the feet of his mistress. 

614. Exeunt. The old-time barber ^op, metaphorically 
described in the preceding passages, is literally and suc- 
cinctly described, though in the service of a fiaible, in the 
extract which I subjoin. In Gay's Fables, Part 1, no. 22, 
a goat grows weary of his * frowzy beard.' 

Resolv'd to smooth his diaggy feice, 

He sought the barber of tiie place. 

A flippant monkey, spruce and smart. 

Hard by, profess'd the dapper art: 

His pole, with pewter basms hung. 

Blade rotten teeth in order strung, 

Ranfi^'d cups that in the window stood, 

Lin'a with red rags, to look like blood, 

Did well his threefold trade explain, 

Who shav'd, drew teeth, and Imath'd a vein. 

640. tume me out these mangy companions. Me was 
often used, in virtue of its representing the old dative, where 
we should useybr me, by me, &c C£ Abbott, Shakes. Gram,, 
p. 146. C£ Taming of the Shrew 1. 2: 

Pet, Villain, I say, knock me here soundly. 
Gru. Knock you here, sir ! Why, sir, what am I, sir, that 

I should knock you, sir? 
Pet, Wlain, I say, knock me at this gate, 

And rap me well 

Companion was often equivalent, in old plays, to the modem 
use of ' fellow ' in a contemptuous sense. C£ 2 Henry IV 
2. 4 : < I scorn you, scurvy companion. What ! you poor, 

ACT in] Notes 215 

base, rascally, cheating, lacklinen mate I Away, you mouldy 
rogue, away.' 

546. a Condactor. In obsolete use, the word conductor 
denoted a naval or military leader. Cf. Glossary. 'Archers 

on horseback under their Captaines or conductours.' Sir 

J. Smyth, Disc. Weapons, 1690. Cited by A^. E. D. 

547. Chester. The capital of Cheshire, England, situated 
on the Dee, fifteen miles southwest of Liverpool : the Ro- 
man Deva and Castra, and the Celtic Caerleon. 

549. Go from my window, loue goe. There is a variation 
of this catch in Monsieur Thomas 3. 8 : 

Come up to my window, love, 

Come, come, come; 
Come to my window, my dear: 

The wind nor the rain 

Shall trouble thee afi;ain, 
But thou shalt be lodged here. 

In The Womar^s Prize 1. 3, we read : 

The wind and the rain 
Has tum'd you back again. 
And you cannot be lodged here. 

In Otway's SoUier^s Fortune 5. 5, the catch stands thus : 

Go from the window, my love, my love. 

Go from the window, my dear; 

The wind and the rain 

Have brought 'em back again, 

An thou canst have no lodging here. 

' On the 4th March, 1587-8, John Wolfe had a license to 

print a ballad called " Goe from the windowe." ' Chappell, 

Popular Music of the Olden Time 1. 140. Chappell prints 
the notes accompanying the ballad 

557. lads of mettle. Lads of spirit A common old phrase. 
Cf. / Henry IV 2. 4: 'They ... tell me flatly I am no proud 
Jack, like Falstaff ; but a Corinthian, ^ lad of mettle: Cf. 
also First Part of Jeronimo 1. 1 : 

Oh, heeres a Lad of mettle, stout Don Andrea. 

561. Mr. All eds. succeeding Qi read Master. Cf. variants. 
The alteration is useful in causing the avoidance of con- 

2 1 6 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act m 

fusion between the Mr. of the text and the now prevalent 
Mister, which is a weakened derivative of master. The 
alteration would not have been necessary at the date of 
our play, since the abbreviation Mr.^ as found in books 
the sixteenth century and for some time later, is to be read 
Master. Cf. CefU. Diet. 

568. Begone, begone, my Inggy, my pnggy* At the end 
of Heywood's Rape of Lucrece, 1609, is a song beginning, 
' Arise, Arise, my Juggie, my Puggie, &c', and containing 
this stanza: 

Begon, begon, my Willie, my Billie, 

begon, begon my deare. 
The weather is warme, 'twill do thee no harme, 

thou canst not be lodged here. 
My Willy, my Billy, my honey, my cony, 

my love, my dove, my deare. 
Oh, oh, the weather is warme, 'twill do thee no harme, 

oh, oh, thou canst not be lodged here. 

The singer of these lines is *Juggy, my Puggy,' who re- 
fuses lodgings to the intruder. In our play, the situation is 
reversed. Hence, * luggy, my puggy ' is the outcast There 
seems to be a close connection between these verses and 
the preceding fragment sung by Merrythought Chappell, 
however, in Popular Music 1. 41, treats Heywood's lines and 
those in our play as belonging to distinct ballads. Chappell 
prints the score of Go from my Window. 

576. Ingrant ' Is the reading of all the copies but that 
of 1711, which exhibits ignorant; of which word it may be 
a vitiation, as ingrum is in Wit without Money, Act V. sc 1. 

Ingrant here seems to stand for ingrateful or ingrate! Ed. 

1778. The supposition is a likely one, although N. E. D. gives 
only the former of the above interpretations. C£ Glossary. 

581. Ton are a fine man an yon had a fine dogge, it 
becomes yon sweetly. This allusion to the possession of 
' a fine dog ' as a mark of gentility reminds one of the absurd 
attachment for his dog borne by the quixotic knight Puntar- 
volo in Every Man Out of His Humour. There is an old 
Welsh proverb which says that a gentleman may be knoii^Ti 
by his hawk, his horse and his greyhound. 

Acrm] Notes 217 

586. I cry 70a mercie. 'A phrase equivalent to '*I beg 
your pardon," at present ..." My good lord of Westmore- 
land, / cry you mercy; I thought your honour had already 
been at Shrewsbury." / Henry IV 4. 2, 

" Are you a gentleman ? cry you mercy, sir." B. Jons. 

Every Man in His Humour, 1. 2. • . . Used apparently in 
mere sport, as an awkward apology for some blunder or 
inattention; possibly founded upon some anecdote of such 
an apology being offered.' Nares, Glossary. 

595. the staffe of your age. C£ Merchant of Venice 2. 2 : 
* the boy was the very staff of my age, my very prop.' 

604. hartely. Cf. 1. 184, and note. 

611. Laualto. 'Lavolta, or Lavolt A kind of dance for 
two persons, consisting a good deal in high and active bounds. 
By its name it should be of Italian origin ; but Florio, in Volta, 
calls it a French dance, and so Shakespeare seems to make it : 

"They bid us to the English dauncing schools. 
And teach lavoUas high, and swift corantos." 

Henry T 3. 5. 

"I cannot sing. 
Nor heel the high lavolt, nor sweeten talk. 
Nor play at subtle ^^ames; £Eur virtues all. 
To which the Grecians are most prompt and pregnant" 

Tro, and Cress. 4. 4. 

It is thus described by Sir John Davies, in his poem on 

"Yet there is one the most delightful kind, 

A lofty jumping, or a leaping round. 

Where arm in arm two dancers are entwin'd. 

And whirl themselves, with strict embracements bound ; 

And still their feet an anapaest do sound. 

An anapaest is all their music's song, 

Whose first two feet are short, and third is lon£." 

Nares, Glossary. 

619. Tou are no loue for me Hargret, I am no loue for 
you. We have here two lines firom some ballad now lost 
The editors of 1778 erroneously state that they are to be 
found in Fair Margaret and Sweet IVilUam, the ballad fi'om 

2i8 The Knighi of the Burning Pestle [act it 

which there is a quotation in the text, 2. 476. MaDefs 
Margarets Ghost is founded upon the lines there Sound, 
and upon the present quotation. 

620. Come aloft. ' To OMff^iii^ means to tumble.' Masoa 

' The expression is generally found applied to apes that are 
taught to vault: here it is used merely as an incitement to 
mirth.' ^Dyce. C£ Massinger, The Bandnum 8. 8 : 

But if this hold, HI teach you 
To came aloft, and do tricks like an ape. 

831. whelms the beeie ? Not only tobacco, but liquor also, 
was consumed at the playhouse during die performance. 
Hentzner tells us that there were attendants who sold ak, 
tobacco, fruits, and nuts to the audience. C£ A Journey into 
England, AugeruiUe Reprints, p. 27. In The tVoman Hater 
2. 1, Lazarillo speaks of the 'shakings and quakings' of the 
poet towards ' the latter end of his new play, (when he's in 
that case that he stands peeping betwixt die curtains, so 
fearfully that a bottle of ale cannot be opened but he diinks 
somebody hisses).' 

Weber and the editors following him have the Citizen go 
out to get the beer. C£ stage-directions in die variants, 
8. 610 and 8. 680. The directions hardly seem necessaxy, 
since the Uquor might easily have been obtained from the 
venders of refreshments who went about among the audience. 

Act IV. 

1. Act 17. C£ variants. ' All the copies concur in making 
this act begin with the Bo^s dancing; but as the dance was 
certainly introduced by way of interlude, here as well as at 
the end of the first act, we have made tins act begin with 
a part of the real play, as all the others do.' ^Ed. 1778. 

2. the prince of Orange. The head of the House of Orange 
at the time of our play was Philip William, eldest son of 
William the Silent 

8. long stocking. C£ Ben Jonson, Poetaster a 1 : ' Why, 
I have beene a reveller, and at my cloth of silver suit, and 
my long stocking, in my time, and will be againe. . . .* 

AOTiv] Notes 219 

A pair of long Spanish silk hose was presented by Sir 
Thomas Gresham to Edward VL It was in the period of 
the Tudors, indeed, that the name stocking was first used, 
so far as we know. 'Then it occurs as the term used for 
" stocking of hose " ; that is, adding continuations to the trunk 
hose or breeches of the period, which said continuations 
received the name of " nether-stocks," the breeches in turn 

being distinguished by that of " upper stocks ".' ^Planche, 

Cychpadia of Costume 1. 484. 

There is much ridicule in old plays upon the absurd 
pride of the gallants in their costly stockmgs as a means 
of showing ofif the shape of their legs to advantage. 

' Brain. A very good leg, master Stephen ; but the woolen 
stocking does not commend it so welL 

Steph. Foh ! the stockings be good enough, now sununer 
is coming on, for the dust : 111 have a pair of silk stockings 
against winter, that I go to dwell in town. I think my leg 

would shew in a silk hose. . . .' ^Ben Jonson, Every Man 

in His Humour 1. 8. 

8. hameaae. 'Harness means armour. So Macbeth says, 
" At least m die with harness on my back." ' Mason. 

5. Fading is a fine ligge. ' Fading is Ae name of an Irish 
dance, and the conmion burden of a song. This dance is 
mentioned by Ben Jonson in the Irish Masque at Court: 
''Daunsh b, fading at te vedding"; and again, "Show tee 
how teye can foot te fading an te fsidow."' ^Ed. 1778. 

Since it seems to have been the burden of a ballad as 
well as a dance, Weber concludes that the word jig should 
be imderstood in its ancient sense, viz. song or ballad. 
' A jig was a ludicrous metrical composition, often in rhyme, 
which was sung by the clown, who occasionally danced, and 

was always accompanied by a tabor and pipe.' ^Halliwell, 

Archaic and Provincial Diet. 

A j^ shall be clapped at, and every ihyme 
Praised and applauded. 

Fair Maid of the Inn, Prologue. 

Fading is referred to in this sense of the jig in Winter's 
Tale 4.4: 'He has the prettiest love-songs for maids; so 

220 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [actt iv 

without bawdry, which is strange ; with such delicate burdens 
of dildos and fadings.^ 

7. and than tumble. The diversion afforded by tumblers 
between the acts of a play is condemned by Stephen Gosson 
in his Playes confuted in five Actions. C£ 1. 478, and note. 

10. Nor eats fire? Professional tricksters, who pretended 
to handle fire with impunity, were looked upon as great 
marvels in the 17th century, and received large remimerations 
for their exhibitions. Evelyn, in his Diary, recounts a fire- 
eater's performance which he saw while calling on Lady 
Sutherland He says: 'She made me stay for dinner, and 
sent for Richardson, the &mous fire-eater. He devoured 
brimstone on glowing coals before us, chewing and swal- 
lowing them; he melted a beer-glass, and eat it quite up; 
then taking a live coal on his tongue, he put on it a raw 
oyster, the coal was blown with bellows, till it flamed and 
sparkled in his mouth, and so remained till the oyster gaped 
and was quite boiled. Then he melted pitch and wax together 
with sulphur, which he drank down as it flamed. I saw it 
flaming in his mouth a good while.' Cited by Chambers in 
Book of Days 2. 278. This Richardson astonished all Europe 
by his tricks with fire, and was scientifically noticed in the 
foumal des Scavans for 1680. 

12. points. Laces with tags at the ends. Such laces, 
about eight inches long, consisting often of three differently 
colored strands of yam twisted together, and having their 
ends wrapped with iron, were used in the Middle Ages to 
fasten the clothes together, but gave place to buttons in the 
seventeenth century. Cf. / Henry IV 2. 4 : 

Falstaff. Their points being broken 

Poins. Down fell their hose. 

37. Arches. ' The chief and most ancient consistory court 
of the Archbishop of Canterbury in London ; being held at 
Bow Church, in London, called St Mary de Arcubus, or St 

Mary le Bow, fi-om being built on arches.' ^Nares, Glossary. 

Nares, in citing our passage, says: 'It seems there was 
a prison belonging to this court' Cf. Scortrful Lady 4. 2 : 

ACTIV] Notes 221 

' Let him be civil and eat in the Arches, and see what will 
come of it' 

The text would indicate that there was a prison connected 
with the court, but I have foimd nothing to bear out the 

44. let the Sophy of Persia come and christen him 
a childe. 'In a note by Warton on the next speech but 
two of the Citizen, it is erroneously stated that '' the Sophy 
of Persia christening a child " is a circumstance in Heywood's 
Four Prentices of London; and Weber as erroneously adds 
that "there is no doubt a Sophy of Persia in Heywood's 
play, btit his christening a child is merely a ludicrous con- 
fusion of the foolish Citizen^ The fact is, the Citizen is not 
thinking of Heywood's play, but of a drama written by Day, 
W. Rowley, and Wilkins, entitled The Travailes of The three 
English Brothers, Sir Thonuis, Sir Anthony, Mr. Robert Shir ley, 
which was printed in 1607, and which (as appears from the 
Boy's reply to the Citizen) had been acted at the Red Bull. 
In the last scene of it, the following dialogue takes place 
between the Sophy and Robert Shirley, who has married 
the Sophy's niece: 

" Soph. If yet vnsatisfied thy griefes remaine, 

Aske yet to please thy selfe, it shall be granted. 

Rob. I feare to be too bold. 

Soph. Aske and obtaine. 

Rob. My child may be baptis'd in Christian faith, 

And know the same God that the father hath. 

Soph. Baptize thy child : our self will ayd in it. 
Our selfe will answer for't, a Godfather; 
In our owne armes weele beare it to the place, 
Where it shall receive the compleat ceremonie. 

Now for the Temple, where our royall hand 
Shall make thv Child first Christian in our land. 

A show of the Christening.'' Exeunt' Dyce. 

C£ Introd., p. XCK. 

Fleay maintains that this play was first put on at the 
Curtain, 1607, it having been presented by Her Majesty's 
Servants, who played at that theatre imtil the opening of 
the Red Bull in 1609. C£ Hist, of Stage, p. 206. Cf. next note. 

222 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act it 

46. red BolL The Red Bull Theatre stood at the upper 
end of St John Street, ClerkenwelL Its origin is obscure. 
Collier is of the opinion that it was an inn-yard in the 
beginning, and was converted into a regular theatre in tiie 
reign of Queen Elizabeth. Fleay says, however, that the 
earliest definite mention of it known to him is in 1609. It 
was then, not an inn-yard, but a regular theatre, Dekker, 
in his Raven's Almanac, entered S. R^ July 7, 1608, predicts 
the renewal, in the autumn of 1609, of the annual contention 
between the three pubUc theatres. According to Fleay, 
these houses were the Globe, at which the King's men were 
playing, the Curtain, which supported the Queen's, and tiie 
Fortune, which supported the Prince's. As no mention is 
made of the Red Bull, Fleay concludes that it must have 
been opened after the appearance of Dekker's book. It is 
known that the company of Queen's [Anne's] men pla3red at 
the Red Bull in 1609, having removed that year firom the 
Curtain. Among the dramas presented there between 1609 
and 1618 was The Four Prentices of London. Queen Anne's 
men acted at the Bull until her death in 1619 ; thereafter 
the Prince's, chiefly, were in possession of the playhouse. 
After the suppression of the theatres, the Red Bull seems 
to have been used for clandestine representation of plays. 
On Dec. 20, 1649, some players were arrested for presenting 
there Fletcher's tragedy. The Bloody Brother. The theatre 
was not pulled down until some time after the Restoration, 
but when Davenant brought out his Playhouse to be Let, 
1663, it was entirely abandoned: 'There are no tenants in 
it but spiders.' For these particulars, c£ Fleay, Hist, of the 
Stage, and Collier, Annals of the Stage. 

Plays of inferior merit seem to have been the kind usually 
presented at the BulL Pompous productions, like The Four 
Prentices of London, were the vogue. 

Wither in Abuses stript and whipt, 1618, remarks of a ru{> 
fling lover, courting his sweetheart: 

His poetry is such as he can cull 

From plays he heard at Curtain or at Bull. 

ACT iv] Notes 223 

In AlbufHOzar, 1615, an old play, one of the characters 
speaks of complhnents he has drawn from plays at the Red 
Bull, ' where I learn all the words I speak and understand not' 

Thomas Carew, in his lines prefixed to Davenant's Just 
Italian, 1680, says of the performers at the Red Bull : 

These are the men in crowded heaps that throng 
To that adulterate stage, where not a tongue 
Of th' untun'd kennel can a line repeat 
Of serious sense. 

In Randolph's Muses' Looking Glass, the theatre meets 
with marked hostility from one of the Puritans in that play: 

Lastly he wish'd 
The Bull might cross the Thames to the Bear-garden, 
And there be soundly baited. 

The satirical intent of our play's notices of the Red Bull 
is made evident by these references. 

48. King of Cracoma's houae, oovered with veluet. Cracovia 
is M. L. for Cracow, which is now the second city of Galida, 
Austria-Hungary, but was from 1820 to about 1609 the capital 
of Poland, and, till the 18th century, the place of coronation 
of her kings. The Wife probably confuses the city with 
the kingdom. 

Modem eds., foUowing ed. 1750, print black velvet. Symp- 
son says: 'I have inserted the colour of the velvet, which 
was here wanting, from what the Boy says, in the second 
speech below, as to the impossibility of their complying with 
the request of the Citizen's Wife, " But we can't present an 
house covered with black velvet'' The Boy's statement, by 
the way, may be taken as an evidence of the Elizabethan 
theatre's limited equipment in stage-scenery.' 

Weber says that the text probably refers to some con- 
temporary romance of the AnuuUs school. I have found no 
mention of a King of Cracovia. It is possible that the black 
velvet is suggested by a circumstance in Palmerin de Oliva. 
C£ chap. 80, Part 2: 'These three companions being entred 
the great Hall, which was hanged round about with black 
velvet, in sign of moummg, they marveUed what might be 
the occasion thereof It is equaUy possible that the text 

224 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act it 

contains a reminiscence of ' The House of Sadness ' in PtUr 
merin of England, where dwelt the mournful lady Paudrida, 
disappointed in love : ' In the midst of this river was an isle, 
wherein was placed an ancient mansion, with many pinnacles 
and battlements, covered all over with black; which dedared 
small pleasure to those who remained there, and great occasion 
of sadness to any that should come there ' (Part 1, chap. 6). 

With her usual blindness toward the fitness of things, the 
Wife does not see the impropriety of developing a love- 
episode in a house which is covered with black velvet, the 
emblem of mourning. 

49. let the Kings daughter stand in her window all in 
beaten gold. C£ Palmerin of England, Part 1, chap. 57: 
' The giant Almoural, abashed at this noble combat, the like 
whereof he had never before beheld, called Miraguarda to 
come and see it ; and it was not long before the chth of silk 
fringed with gold was spread along the window, whereon she 
leaned, her damsels standing by her to behold this knightly 

Metals embroidered or ' beaten ' in elaborate designs were 
formerly used for the ornamentation of cloth. 

62. to haue a Grocers prentice to court a kings dau^ter. 
The retention of /So in the infinitive, in cases where modem 
English would omit it, was formerly common. Cf. Love's 
Labours Lost 4. 8 : 

To see . . . profound Solomon to time a jig. 

C£ Abbott, Shakes. Gram., p. 260. 

65. what was sirDagonet? was not he prentice to a grocer 
in London? 'Sir Dagonet, whom the Citizen mistakes for 
a grocer's prentice, is a character in the celebrated romance, 
Morte d Arthur, where he is described as "K>Tige Arthurs 
foole," and we are told that "K3mge Arthur loued hj-m 
passynge wel, and made hym knyght [with] his owne handes. 
And att every tumement he beganne to make Kynge Arthur 
laughe." B. x. cap. 12. voL ii. 21, ed. Southey. On all 
occasions sir Dagonet meets with very rough treatment : see, 
for instance, B. ix. cap. 3. voL L 314, where sir La-cote- 

ACT iv] Notes 225 

male-tayle smites him over his horse's croup; and cap. 19 
of the same B. p. 389, where sir Tristram " souses " him in 
a well, and afterwards takes him by the head and dashes 

him to the ground.' ^Dyce. 

The Citizen's acquaintance with Sir Dagonet was gained, 
no doubt, through the latter's appearance in Arthur's Show, 
an exhibition of archery held at Mile End Green by a society 
of London citizens, fifty-eight in number, who assumed the 
arms and names of the Knights of the Round Table. Henry 
Vni gave the fraternity a charter, and patronized their per- 
formances. Justice Shallow boasts of his connection with 

the fellowship: *I remember at Mile End Green, when 

I lay at Clement's Inn, 1 was then Sir Dagonet in Arthur's 

Show.' 2 Henry IV 3. 2. 

66. Bead the play of the Foure Prentioes of London. The 
earliest extant edition of The Four Prentices bears the date of 
1615. The Address to the Readers mentions as quite recent, 
however, the revival of arms-practice in the Artillery Gardens. 
This was in 1610. Fleay adduces this &ct as, evidence that 
our play first appeared in that year. Cf. Introd., p. XIDL 

67. where they toaae their pikes so. In The Four Prentices, 
Eustace and Guy, before entering upon a combat with each 
other, toss and catch their pikes to prove their strength of arm. 

Eustace. Thinks't thou this rye-straw can o'er-rule my arm ? 
Thus do I bear Imn when I use to march; 
Thus can I fling him up, and catch him thus: 

[They toss their pikes. 
Then thus, to try the sinews of my arm. 

Guy. I thus: 'tis easier sport than the baloon [L e. 

foot ball]. 

73. Enter Bafe and the Lady» Squire and dwarfe. For 
a discussion of episodes in the romances parallel to the ad- 
venture here commenced, c£ Introd., pp. LI— UV. 

77. King of Xoldania. Moldavia, once an independent 
principality, now forms the northern part of Roumania. It was 
founded early in the 14th century, became tributary to Tiukey 
late in the 16th century, maintained a shifting relation to the 


226 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act rr 

Hungarian crown, and sometimes transferred its vassalage to 
Lithuania and Poland. C£ Freeman, Historical Geography, 
Perhaps in this period of shifting allegiance the titles Kif^ 
of Moldavia and King of Cracovia [L e. Poland (?)] were 
interchangeable, and the seeming inconsistency of our text 
is thereby explained. C£ 4. 48, and note. 

Weber conjectures that Ralph's adventures at the court 
of Moldavia were founded upon one of the numerous Spanish 
romances in the library of Don Quixote. C£ Ben Jonson, 
Epicoene 6. 1 : * Yes, sir, of Pomentack, when he was here, 
and of the prince of Moldavia, and of his mistress, mistress 
Epicoene.* Fleay, referring to our passage, has this to say: 
* The Prince of Moldavia of Jonson's Epicoene V. 1 (Cf. " King 
of Moldavia " 4. 2), on whom Weber wrote such nonsense, 
and of whom Dyce says " nothing is known," was with the 
Turkish Ambassador at the English court, 1607, Nov. (see 
Nichols. XL 167).' Biog. Chr. 1. 184. 

One Rowland White, writing from the Court on Nov. 7 
of 1607, says : * The Turke and the Prince of Moldavia are 

now going away.' Nichols, Progresses of King James the 

First 2. 167. 

79. that will stay with vs No longer but a night. It is 
characteristic of the errant knights to be so engrossed in 
the quest of adventures that they are unwilling to tarry in 
any lodging longer than a night. 

In Palmerin de Oliva, Netrides has been banished from 
his brother's kingdom, and he proceeds to take solace in 
a rapid pursuit of adventures. *Then willing one of his 
Squires to saddle his Steede, he departed away as close as 
he could, forbidding any of his Servants to follow him : and 
such expedition he made, as not resting but one night in 
any Lodgings he left his Brothers Kingdome, wandring without 
any care of himselfe, or which way he went, but wente here 
and there, as Fortune pleased to guide him.' Similarly, in 
Palmerin of England, Part 1, chap. 31, the knight of Fortune 
(and here as a mark of particular favor) agrees to spend 
a night in the castle of the countess of Sorlinga : • And be- 
cause the knight of Fortune had received great honours from 

ACT iv] N^es 2^7 

her on the way, he accompanied her to her dwdBog, 
remained there thai mghL The next moriimg he rode fcrward, 
rejoicing that he was arrived m diat couuliy where he had 
determined to pat his fortune in IriaL* 

91. Orocer in the strand. Q^CieadStnuid. CX variants. 
The Strand is now one of tfie great huaincas arteries of 

London, reaching from Charing Ooss to die site of Tenq^ 
Bar. In the 16th and 17th centuries, it was a £ufaiofiaUe 
quarter. Tradesmen, however, were to he fcond on die 
street James Northcote, R. A., on his first coming to London, 
lodged at 'Mrs. Lefty's, Grocer m the SbramdJ CL Wh.-C. 

92. By deed Indent^ ofwUdi I haneonepot. 'Appren- 
tices ... are usually bound for a term of yeares, ly deed 
indented, or indentures, to serve dieir masters, and be main- 
tained and instructed by them.' Oackstone, Commetdaries, 

Vol. 1, chap. 2. 

Articles of agreement between apprentice and e^^>]oyer 
were drawn up in duplicate, die two hahres of the doonnent 
being severed by a toothed, zigzag, or wavy line, so diat 
the two parts ezacdy tallied. 'One copy was retained by 
each party ; the genuineness of these could be subsequently 
proved by the coincidence of their indented margins.' NJ£J). 

100. Nipitato. According to Nares, this obsolete term means 
strong liqiior. It was a sort of jocular tide, appHed in com- 
mendation, chiefly to ale. It is a mock Latin word formed 
from the whimsical Elizabethan adjective mppitate. Nares 
cites Stubbes, Anai. of Abuses, p. 160: 'Then, when the 
Nippitaium, this Huf-cap (as they call it) and this nectar oi 
lyfe, is set abroche, wel is he that can g^et the soonest to 
it, and spend most at it' To illustrate the use of the ad- 
jective, Nares gives a passage fixwn The Weakest goes to 
the IVall: 'Well fare England, where the poore may have 
a pot of ale for a penny, fresh ale, firme ale, nappie ale, 
nippitate ale.' This quotation bears out Pompiona in describing 
nippitato as a peculiarly English drink. 

104. of a wild-fowle he will often speake. Which pondered 
beefe and mustard called is. To speake of beef and mustard 
as a wild fowl is, of course, an intentional absurdity. 


228 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act it 

A common old use of the verb to powder was to signify 
the salting of meat in any way. C£ / Henry IV 6. 4: *If 
thou embowel me to-day, 111 give you leave to powder me, 
and eat me too, to-morrow.' 

109. To weare a Ladies fkaour in your shield. Here is 
a reflection of the well-known custom in mediaeval chivaby 
which enjoined upon the knight to wear in some conspicuous 
part of his armor a ' favor,' or token of affection, from his 
lady, L e. a knot of ribbons, a glove, &c C£ Humorous 
Lieutenant 2. 2 : 

Hang all your lady^s favours on your crest, 
And let them fight their shares. 

111. will not weare a fauour of a Ladies That trosti 
in Antichrist. The Christian knights habitually repelled the 
advances of pagan princesses. Thus Palmerin de 01i\ra 
scorns Ardemia's amours because she is a pagan. C£ Introdi 
p. LEDL 

114. Besides, I haue a Lady of my owne. Similarly, Pal- 
merin de Oliva fortifies himself against the blandishments of 
a designing princess by calling to mind his chosen love. C£ 
Introd., p. LIIL 

133. And another. The modem eds. print, for the metre, 
'And there's another.' 

136. nointing. The modem eds. read ' nointing, as though 
the word were an abbreviation of anointing. The original 
reading is defensible: Cent. Diet, gives noint as a distinct 
word, now obsolete, but formed by aphaeresis from anoinL 

136. butter. 'Mason says we should read butler, "as 
SeWard does." But the edition of 1760, and every otiier, 
reads as in the text, and there is no occasion to alter it 
Ralph gives an additional shilling for the butter used for his 

horse's back.' ^Weber. Butter was formerly used as an 

unguent C£ 2. 406, and note. 

138. wash't my boot-hose. Boot-hose were extra stockings 
or leggings wom with boots, and covering the upper part 
of the leg and a part of the thigh, but not the ankles and 

ACT iv] Notes 229 

Stubbes cries out against < the vain excesse of boote hosen * : 
' They have also boote hosen which are to be wondered at ; for 
they be of the fynest cloth that may be got, yea, fine inough to 
make any band, ruffe, or shurt needful to be worn : yet this is 
bad inough to were next their gresie boots. And would God 
this weare all : (oh, phy for shame !) they must be wrought 
all over, from the gartering place vpward, with nedle worke, 
clogged with silk of all colors, with birds, foules, beasts, and 
antiques purtrayed all over in comlie sorte. So that I have 
knowen the very nedle work of some one payre of these 
bootehose to stand, some in iij. pound, vL pound, and some in 
X. pound a peece. Besides this, they are made so wyde to draw 
over all, and so longe to reach vp to the waste, that as litle, or 
lesse, clothe would make one a reasonable shurte. But tush ! 

this is nothing in comparison of the reste.' Anat. of Abuses, 

p. 61. 

139. wip't my boots. * Boots were universally worn by 
fashionable men, and, in imitation of them, by others, in the 
reign of Elizabeth and James the First, insomuch that Gondomar, 
the Spanish ambassador, pleasantly related, when he went home 
into Spain, that all the citizens of London were booted, and 
ready, as he thought, to go out of town.' Nares, Glossary. 

The affectation of polished foot wear, common among the 
gallants and their imitators, is frequently satirized. Falstaff 
ridicules Poins because he ' swears with a good grace : and 
wears his bo(4 very smooth, like unto the sign of the leg.' 

2 Henry IV 2.^. In Massinger's Guardian, some one 

asks how the vintners shall be known. The answer is: 'If 
they walk on foot, by their rat-coloured stockings, and shin- 
ing shoes.^ 

141. to buy you pins at Bumbo flBire. Pins of a costly 
sort seem to have been popular with women. The pedlar 
in Heywood's Four PP, Haz.-Dods., OldEng. Plays 1. 249 ff., 
is thus rebuked by the pothecary: 

I beshrew thy knaves naked heart 
For making my wife's pincase so wide. 
The pins rail out, they cannot abide : 

230 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act it 

Great pins she must have, one or other ; 
If she lose one, she will find another. 
Wherem I find cause to complain; 
New pins to her pleasure and my pain. 

I can find no record of a ' Bumbo Fair.' Apparently Ralph 
is playing upon the word bumbo, which is the name of 
a drink made of rum, water, and nutmeg. It was no doubt 
popular at fedrs. 

It should be remembered that fairs were formerly not 
merely places for exhibits and for amusements, but were 
regular markets, to which the people resorted periodically 
to buy supplies for the ensuing year. In Gay's Pastorals, 
No. 6, some of the commodities are enumerated. Among 
other things Gay teUs us: 

How pedlar's staUs with glitt'ring toys are laid, 
The various fisurings of a country maid. 
Long silken laces hang upon the twine. 
And rows of pins and amber bracelets shine. 

158. Go get yoa vp. The first inference is that Venturewell 
b commanding his daughter to rise firom her knees, but die 
context seems to show that he is bidding her go to her 
chamber in the upper part of the house. 

154. gossip. No fitting definition of this noun is given in 
the dictionaries. In the light of the context, and of a dial 
verb gossip, with about, meaning ' to make merry, gad about ' 
(cf. Wright), I have ventured to define it as hqydemsh 'gad- 
about: C£ Glossary. 

The word will bear this interpretation, since the merchant 
is rebuking Luce for her disobedience and her clandestine 
escapade with Jasper. 

170. I haue beene beaten twice about the lye. With 
characteristic irrelevancy, Humphrey drags in an allusion to 
some dispute over a point of honor in which he was worsted 
In Saviolo's treatise entitled Of Honour andHonorabk Quarrels, 
1595, there is a minute chapter on the * Diversity of Lies/ 
in which are enumerated the ' Lie certain,' the ' conditional 
Lie,' the ' Lie in particular,' the ' foolish Lie,' ' the returning 

ACT iv] N§ies 231 

back of the Lie,* && ToudistDiie adminbtj fate off the 
absurd fashions which prevailed in die piddn^ adjuatiug. 
and settling of a quarrel CL his accoont of a qmnei 'opoo 
a lie seven times removed,' As Yam Like B a^-L 

171. no more of compkoMuL The bngoage of co nn il iiiiHti 
was carried to an absurd height in die 17di cent, 2nd was 
extravagantly artifidaL An anonymous writer of 1689, speak- 
ing of the trifling and intrusive manners of male goasqis, 
says : ' It is a wonder to see what muhitodes there be of all 
sorts that make this dieir only busineas, and in a manner 
spend their whole time in compUmetti; as if they were bom 
to no other end, bred to no other purpose, had nodnng ebe 
to do, than to be a kind of living, walking ghosts, to haunt 
and persecute others with mmecessary o b ser vat ion,' Msuston, 
describing the finished gallant, says: 

liark nodimg bat his ckxtfaes. 
His new stampt comfkmeni; his common oadies, 
Mark those. Scourge cf VUkdme (15W), Bk. 2, saL 7. 

Cf. Dekker, The Guffs Hornbook: 'You courtieis that do 
nothing but sing the gamut A-Re of complemtnkd courte^.' 
See also Drake, Shakespeare and kis Times, p. 422. 

180. Tis some-what of the most It is a rather long time. 

181. Because I meaoe against tlio i^poiitted day. To visite 
all my friends in new amy. The prep, against has a cur- 
rent meanmg, in anticipation cf, which is rather more general 
than the sense of our passage will admit Here I take it to 
have an mtensive force, implying the dose proximity of the 
wedding. This emphasis is supplied m an obsolete use of 
the word equivalent to in view of the near approach of, and 
carrying with it some idea of preparedness and provision 
for (an event). See A^. E. D^ and Glossary. C£ Taming of 
the Shrew 2. 1 : 

Give me thy hand, Kate: I wiU unto Venice, 
To buy apparel *gainst the wedding-day. 
Provide the feast, father, and bid the guests. 

209. had almost brou^t me downs. 'Where there can 
be no doubt what is the nominative, it is sometimes omitted. 

232 The Knighi of the Burning Pesile [act nr 

. . . The omission of the nominative is most common widi 
"has," "is," "was," Slc ... 

" Tis his own blame : haih put himself from rest" 

Lear, iL 4. . . . 

" Poor jade, is wrong in the withers out of all 'cess." 
/ Henry IV, 2. !•' Abbott, Shakes. Gram., pp. 287-a 

216. Porrage. Dyce justifies the variant reading, pottage, 
by referring to the employment of the latter word in 2. 390. 
lliis is scarcely a sufficient basis for the change. Porridge 
and pottage were both words in good usage in the 17th 
century, and both may easily have occured in the same play. 

262. Let it together oeaie me. Together can here have 
no other significance than that of altogether, though such 
a meaning is not recognized in the dictionaries. C£ Glossary. 

256. bring. Ed. 1750, for the metre, prints * and bring.* 

272. now dead. ' Something seems to have dropt out from 
the line: qy. 

" That whilst he liv'd was otdy yours, now dead " ? ' Dycc 

298. And filL And we will filL ' Where there can be no 
doubt what is the nominative, it is sometimes omitted.' — 
Abbott, Shakes. Gram., p. 287. It will be seen that here 
there is also an elision of an auxilliary verb ; the force of 
the preceding will, L 281, however, is of course carried over. 

As an example of the omission of the nominative, c£ 
WinUf's Tale 4.4: 

They call him Doricles; and boasts himself 
To have a worthy feeding. 

804. Bind with dpres and sad Ewe. The branches of the 
cypress and the yew were formerly used as emblems at 
Amends. ' Coles in his Introduction of Plants, p. 64. says : 
" Cypresse Garlands are of great account at fimeralls amongst 
the gentler sort, but rosemary and bayes are used by the 
commons both at fimeralls and weddings." ... To a query 
why among the ancients yew and cypress were given at 
fimerals, it is answered: "We suppose that, as yew and 
cypress are always green, the ancients made use of them 

ACT iv] Notes 233 

at burials, as an emblem of the immortality of the deceased 

through their virtues or good wo^s." ' ^Brand, P6p. Antiq. 


C£ song m Twe^ Nighi 2. 4 : 

Come away, come away, death. 
And in sad cypress let me be laid; 

My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, 
O, prqMune it ! • • . 

806. candles Uew. Brand says diat in Hemy the Eighth's 
time it was the custom to set two burning amdks over die 
dead body, and quotes from Mo r es inu s, an old writer, who 
gives his conjecture on die use of die candle vsfoa this 
occasion: 'It was an Egyptian hien)giy|diic for life, de- 
signed to express die ardent desire of the s uivivo is to have 
had the life of the deceased prolonged.' Pop. Antiq. 2. 286. 

Blue was the color which qrmbolized constancy. 

807. moummg. The variant reading moaning is justified, 
since it supplies, as ed. 1750 makes note, the rime Xogroani$tg. 

811. Let him haaafidrellowen enow. CX 2.566, and note. 

851. Now must I go eonrare. Professional coi^nreri had 
a great following in die 10th and 17th centmry. They were 
supposed among odier things to materialize the q)irits of die 
dead ; therefinre die subsequent compearance of Jaqier's 
ghost might easily have been ascribed by Ve nturew eD to 
the supernatural powers of these magicians. Accounts of the 
tricks employed by conjurers may be found in Thombury, 
Shakespeinr^s England 2.\M9^ziiaL%njA,P6p.Anii^^ 

868. Who oaa ling a BeRieriioate. 'The last piece in 
Ravenscroft's PammeUa, 1600, is A Round or Cakh for ten 
or eleven voices: 

'^ Sing we now merily, our purses be empty, hey ho. 

Let diem take care 

That list to q»re. 

For I win not doe soe; 
Who can sing so meny a note 
As he that cannot cha^e a groat? 
Hey hoe, trolly, DoBy Vot, trolly toDy lo." ' Dyce. 

234 T?ie Knight of the Burning Pestle [act it 

The lines occur, with slight variatioiis, at a much earlier date 
than 1609 in Heywood's Proverbs, printed 1546. C£ Shennan's 
ed. p. 82: 

What man! the begger may sing before the theefe. 
And who can sing so merrie a note, 
As may he that cannot change a grote ? 

378. I would not be a aerumgman to carry the doke-lwg 
8tilL The gallants were accompanied by their serving-men, 
who carried their cloaks and loose belongings in a sort of 
bag or portmanteau made for the purpose. One b reminded 
of Every Man Out of his Humour 8. 1, where Puntarvalo 
and Carlo enter the middle aisle of Paul's to promenade 
with the other gallants, and are ' followed by two servingmen, 
one leading a dog, the other bearing a bag.^ 

In 2 The Retume from Parnassus 4. 2, 1602, one of the 
characters, Ingenioso, says to another, the Recorder : * So ho 
maister Recorder • . . you that are a plague stuffed doate- 
bagge of all iniquitie, which the grand serving-man of Hell 
will one day trusse vp behind him, and carrie to his smokie 

879. Nor would I be a Fawleconer the greedy Hawlkes 
to filL 'The fsdconer's life was not one of idleness; he had 
to study the dispositions of each one of his birds as if they 
were children, to learn which he should fly eariy and which 
late; and he had to clean them, and study their diet 
Every night, after the day's flight, he must give his birds 
fitting medicine, directed by the mewting, or the appearance 
of their eye or plumage. ... He was obliged to have Us 
pouch well suppUed with medicines for his hawks, . . . mummy 
powder, washed aloes, cloves, nutmegs, and saffix>n. . . . The 
food of the hawk was a question of great importance : the 
sparrow-hawk was fed with sheep's, pig's, and lamb's hearts, 
the thighs of pullets and martlets, and it was held dangerous 

to give them two sorts of meats at the same meaL' ^Thom- 

bury, Shakesfiere's England 1. 888 ff 

885. FhUoaopherB atone. Sometimes identified in alchemy 
with the elixir vitce, a soUd soluble substance, which was 

ACT iv] Noies 23s 

a supposed drug or essence having the propertjr of restonng 
youth and indefinitely prcdongiDg iifie. 

393. UUian of Beny. ""Tins is, pfrhaps, an error for 
Gillian of Brentford, a noted character of the sixteenth 
century. Among the Selden coDectioo of black-letter Ro- 
mances, there is one entitled '^ of Brentfioid's Testament' " 

So writes Weber, and very abraxdly. Berry is, of course. 
Bury. Jyl of Brmntfdrds Testamad, instead of being a ro- 
mance, is a £au:etioas poem.' Dyce. 

400. But kiflse your Uoiitp—i and go your way. Thb 
seems not to have been an mmsnal ceremony on leaving an 
inn. Dekker says to his gallant: 'At your dqj ai tuie forth 
the house, to kiss mine HosHs over the barre, ... or to bid 
any of the Vintners good ni^;ht, is as commendable, as for 
a Barber after trimming to lave your fact with sweete water.' 

The Gull's Hornbook, chap. 7, 'How a Gallant should 

behave himself in a Taveme.' 

406. sing ihia CatdL 'The modem editors give, **co>me, 
sing this catch " : but in tiie first 4to. and one of the 4tos. 
of 1635, the words, " sing tins catch," are distincdy a stage- 
direction.' ^Dyce. C£ variants. 

408. Ho, ho, no body at home. 'In Ravenscroffs Pant' 
ntelia, 1609, this catch (No. 85) stands as follows: 

"Ey ho no body at home, 

Meate nor drinke nor money have I none, 

FiQ the pot Eadie. Hey ut supraP' Dyce. 

Dyce's statement is, of course, authentic, but there is no 
means of referring to PamrneUa, The book is not accessible. 

420. Let Bi^h come out on a Kay-day in the morning. 
The celebration of May-day, no longer observed except in 
partial form here and there by children, was an annual event 
in the England of the 16th and 17th centuries. 'In the 
month of May, namely, on May-day in the morning, every 
man, except impediment, would walk into the sweet meadows 
and green woods, there to rejoice their spirits with the 
beauty and savour of sweet flowers, and witii the harmony 
of birds, praising God in their kind. ... I find also that in 

236 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act iv 

the month of May, the citizens of London of all estates^ 
lightly in every parish, or sometimes two or three parishes 
joining together, had their several Mayings, and did fetch in 
May-poles, with divers warlike shows, with good archers, 
Morris dancers, and other devices for pastime all the day 
long; and toward tiie evening they had stage-plajrs, and 
bonfires in the streets.' Stow, Survey, p. 88. 

Stubbes has a spirited account of the festival, but, unlike 
Stow, he does scant justice to its beauties. His Puritanical 
sensibilities are shocked by the alleged wickedness and 
debauchery committed on May-day, and he regards the whole 
celebration as a tribute to SataiL 'And no marvaile, for 
there is a great Lord present amongst them, as superintendent 
and Lord ever their pastymes and sportes, namely, Sadian, 
prince of heL' Anat. of Abuses, p. 149. 

Most of the features of the May-games vanished long aga 
The last of the London May-poles was erected soon after 
the Restoration in 1661. It remained standing until 1717. 
In the remoter districts of England, however. May-poles were 
to be found £ar into the last century. There is a description 
of them by Washington Irving in The Sketch Book. 

Good accounts of the May-games are to be found in 
Strutt's Sports and Pastimes, Brand's Pop. Antiq., and Cham- 
bers' Book of Days. 

421. vpon a Conduit. In Old London, the conduits or 
reservoirs were common gathering-places, where gossips 
met and passed the news of the day. Hence the Citizen is 
eminently judicious in his selection of a place for the dis- 
play of Ralph's finery, and for his rhetorical flourishes. 

Previous to 1618 there were only two or three conduits 
in the principal streets, and a few others in the northern 
suburbs. The largest and the most decorative of these was 
known as the Great Conduit It stood in the center of 
Cheapside, then, as now, one of the important thoroughfares. 
Leaden pipes ran along Cheapside, conveying the water to 
the smaller reservoirs. Only public buildmgs were supplied 
directly. The water had to be fetched for domestic use fit>m 
the conduits. Many poor men, known as tankard-bearers, 

ACT iv] Notes 237 

made their living by carrying water to householders in large 
tankards holding from two to three gallons. When water 
was required in smaller quantities, apprentices and servant- 
girls were sent to get it Hence the conduits were not only 
gossiping-places, but spots about which the rougher elements of 
the population gathered. C£ Chambers, Book of Days 2. 393. 
Oliver Cob, in Ben Jonson's Every Man in his Humour, 
is a water-carrier. I£s language and tiie coarse quality of 
his associations may be taken as an index to the kind of life 
which assembled about the conduits. 

421. with all his ScarfeB about him, and his fathers and 
his rings and his ^"^^^■^ A valuable description of the 
equipment of the Morris-dancers, which the Wife has in 
mind, is given by Stubbes in an invective against them as 
attendants upon the Lord of Ifisrule : ' Then everie one of 
these men, be investeth with his liveries of green, yellow, 
or some other light wanton colour; And as though they 
were not (baudie) gaudie enough, I should say, they bedecke 
them selves with scarfs, ribons & laces hanged all over with 
golde rings, precious stones, & otiier jewels : this doon, they 
tye about either leg XX. or XL. bels, with rich handker- 
cheifs in hands, and sometimes laid a crosse over their 
shouldiers & necks, borrowed for the most parte of their 
pretie Mopsies & looving Besses, for bussing them in the 
dark. Thus al things set in order, then have they their 
Hobby-horses, dragons & other Antiquities, togither with 
their baudie Pipers and thundering Drummers to strike vp 
the devils daunce withalL Then, march these heathen com- 
pany towards the Church and Church-yard, their pipers 
pipeing, their drummers thundring, their stumps dauncing, 
their bels iyngling, their handkerchefe swinging about their 
heds like madmen, their hobbie horses and other monsters 
skirmishJTig amongst the route: & in this sorte they go to 
the Church (I say) & into the Church, (though the fiiinister 
be at praier or preaching), ^^nnng Sl swinging their hand- 
kerchei& over their heds in Church, like devils incarnate, 
with such a confuse noise, that no man can hear his own 
voice; Ami. of Abuses, p. 147. 

238 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act it 

427. in honor of the Citty. This or some similar expression 
seems to have been commonly employed in connection witii 
any celebration or festive poformance undertaken by &e 
citizens, hi Women Pleased 4. 1, Soto, leader of a band of 
Morris-dancers, says to them : * Now for the honour of our 
town, boys, trace sweetly.* Cfl also hid. 29, and 5. 75. hi his 
dedication of The Four Prentices of London • to the honest 
and high-spirited prentices, the readers,' which was prefixed 
to the ed. of 1616, Heywood speaks of renewal of *the 
commendable practice of long forgotten Armes,' which had 
redoimded to ' the glory of our Nation, the security of the 
Kingdome, and the Honour of this Renowned Citfy,^ 

433. shall not he dance the morrice. The Morris-dance 
or Morrice-dance was a performance for a long time asso- 
ciated with a number of festive seasons in England, among 
them Holy Thursday, the Whitsun Ales, the ceremony of 
the Lord of Misrule, weddings, and the May-day. It is now 
wholly discontinued. The name would indicate a Spanish 
origin, and indeed the dance is regarded with more or less 
certainty as a development of the Morisco-dance or Spanish 
fandango. It became an essential part of village festivities 
imder Henry VUL Only fragmentary descriptions of it have 
been handed down to us, and accurate knowledge of its 
features is not obtainable. Allusions and contemporary prints 
indicate that it was a hoidenish sort of performance, in 
which the participants joined hands and formed many 
eccentric figures. 

The collective number of dancers in the Morris varied firom 
time to time. According to Douce {lUustrations of Shakes- 
peare, p. 581), in more ancient times the chief characters 
were Robin Hood, Little John, Friar Tuck, Maid Marian, Ae 
Queen or Lady of the May, the fool, the piper, and several 
Morris-dancers habited in various modes. Afterwards a hobby- 
horse and a dragon were added. Most of the authorities, 
Douce included, do not regard the Robin Hood cortege, 
with the exception of Maid Marian, as constituent figures in 
the Morris. A large proportion of the allusions to the 
dance in the old plays and poems connect it with the 

ACT iv] Notes 239 

May-games, but do not necessarily contain a mention of 
the train of Robin Hood. A tabulation of the Morris- 
dancers, which is generally accepted, is found in a rare old 
poem entitled Cobbe*s Prophecies, which is quoted by Brand, 
Pop. AfUiq. 1. 26 : 

It was my hap of late, by chance. 
To meet a county Morris-dance, 
When, cheefest of them all, the Foole 
Plaied with a ladle and atoole ; 
When every younker shakt his bels, 
Till sweating feet gave fohing smels: 
And fine Maide Msman with her smoile 
Shew'd how a rascall plai'd the rofle: 
But, when Ae hobby-horse did wihy, 
Then all the wenches gave a tihy: 
But when they gave to shake their boze. 
And not a eoose could catch a foze, 
The piper then put up his pipes. 
And all the woodcocks look't like snipes. 

In a painted window at Bentley, Straffordshire, is a famous 
representation of a Morris, in which a Biaypole is surrounded 
by six Morris-dancers, together with a musician, a fool, a 
crowned lady who is r^;arded as Maid Marian, and a 
hobby-horse mounted by a cronmed man, who is possibly 
Robin Hood. In The Two Noble Kinsmen 8. 5, Gerrold, the 
schoolmaster, directs a Morris danced by four countrymen, 
six women, a taborer, and the Bavian or fooL Other plays 
which mention or appropriate the old dance are too nume- 
rous to mention here. In addition to the authorities already 
cited, cf. Chambers, The Mediceval Stage, and Enc. Brit. 

484. for the credit of the Strand. A Morris-dancer in 
The Two Nobk Kinsmen 8. 5, speaking of his performance, 
says that *the credit of our town lay on it' 

440. Let each true Snfaiact. Each subject of the May Lord. 

448. My name is Bi^h, by due disceni^ though not 
ignoble I, Tet &r inflsrior to tfaeFIocke of gratious Grocery. 
A direct parody of the speech of the ghost in Kyd's Spanish 
Tragedy 1. 1. C£ Introd., p. C. 

240 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act i? 

Instead of Flocke, Dyce reads stock. C£ variants. The 
alteration perhaps strengthens the sense, but it is quite im- 
warranted. The word flock is legimately , thougfa infrequentiy . 
transferred from birds or animals to any band or compax^* 
of people. It is so employed here. 

446. With guilded Staffe, and crossed Skarfe, the Hay- 
lordherel stand. Is seems to have been the constant custom, 
at the celebration of the May-games, to elect a Lord and 
Lady of the May, who probably presided over the sports. 
Strutt, in Sports and PasUmes, p. 358, mentions our passage 
as an evidence that the Lord of the May was decorated widi 
scarfe, ribbons, and other fineries. He identifies this digni- 
tary with the personator of Robin Hood : 'At the conunence- 
ment of the sixteenth century, or perhaps still earlier, the 
ancient stories of Robin Hood and his firolicsome companions 
seem to have been new-modelled, and divided into separate 
ballads, which much increased their popularity; for this 
reason it was customary to personify this frunous oudaw, 
with several of his most noted associates, and add tiiem to 
the pageantry of the May-games. He presided as Lord cf 
the May; and a female, or rather, perhaps, a man habited 
like a female, called the Maid Marian, his faithful mistress, 
was the Lady of May. His companions were distinguished 
by the title of " Robin Hood's men," and were also equipped 
in appropriate dresses; their coats, hoods, and hose were 
generally green.' The crossed Skarfe is referred to by 
Stubbes. Cf. 4. 421, and note. 

450. For now the firagrant Flowers do spring, Ac These 
lines are in the manner of the t3rpical May-day ballads, which 
usually sounded the praises of spring. Chambers, in the 
Book of Days 1. 547, gives the following representative 
May-song : 

Come listen awhile imto what we shall say, 
Concerning the season, the month we call May ; 
For the flowers they are springing, and the birds they do sing, 
And the blaziers are sweet in the morning of May. 

When the trees are in bloom, and the meadows are green, 
The sweet-smelling cowslips are plain to be seen; 

ACT iv] Noies 241 

The sweet ties of nature, which we plainly do see, 
For the blaziers are sweet in the morning of May. 

All creatures are deem'd, in their station below, 

Such comforts of love on each other bestow ; 

Our flocks they are folded, and yoimg lambs sweetly do play. 

And the blaziers are sweet in the morning of May. 

So now to conclude, with much freedom and love. 
The sweeten of blessings proceeds from above ; 
Let us join in our song that right happy may we be. 
For we'll bless with contentment the morning of May. 

456. The Morrice rings while Hobby-horse doth foote it 
feateously. ' The hobby-horse, which seems latterly to have 
been almost inseparable from the morris-dance, was a com- 
poimd figure; the resemblance of the head and tail of a 
horse, with a light wooden frame for the body, was attached 
to the person who was to perform the double character, 
covered with trappings reaching to the groimd, so as to 
conceal the feet of the actor, and prevent its being seen 
that the supposed horse had none. Thus equipped, he was 
to prance about, imitating the curvetings and motions of a 
horse, as we may gather from the following speech in an 
old tragedy called the Vow-breaker, or Fair Maid of Clifton, 
by William Sampson, 1636. " Have I not practised my reins, 
my careeres, my prankers, my ambles, my false trotts, my 

smooth ambles, and Canterbury paces and shall the 

mayor put me, besides, the hobby-horse ? I have borrowed 
the fore-horse bells, his plumes, and braveries; nay, I have 

had the mane new shorn and frizelled Am I not going 

to buy ribbons and toys of sweet Ursula for the Marian, 

and shall I not play the hobby-horse? Provide thou the 
dragon, and let me alone for the hobby-horse." And after- 
wards: "Alas, Sir! I come only to borrow a few ribbands, 
bracelets, ear-rings, wyertyers, and silk girdles, and hand- 

kerchers, for a morris and a show before the Queen 1 

come to ftimish the hobby-horse."* Strutt, Sports and 

Pastimes, p. 224. 

Usually a ladle was suspended from the horse's mouth 
for the purpose of gathering money from the spectators. 


242 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act it 

There are frequent allusions in the old plays to the ex- 
pulsion of the hobby-horse fix)m the May-games, which was 
effected by the Puritans. Cf. Hamlet 3. 2: <or else shall 
he suffer not thinking on, with the hobby-horse, whose epi- 
taph is,' "For, O, for, O, the hobby-horse is forgot!"' CI 
Women Pleased 4. 1, Lovers Labour's Lost 3. 1, &c Women 
Pleased contains an extended exposition of the Puritans' aver- 
sion to the hobby-horse. * During the reign of Elizabeth the 
Puritans made considerable havoc among the May-games by 
their preachings and invectives. Poor Maid Marian was assim- 
ilated to the whore of Babylon; friar Tuck was deemed 
a remnant of Popery, and the Hobby-horse an impious and 
Pagan superstition ; and they were at length most completely 

put to rout as the bitterest enemies of religion.' Douce, 

IllustraHons of Shakespeare, p. 696. Under James I the lady 
and the hobby-horse were reinstated. They were degraded 
under the Commonwealth, but again revived after the Res- 

467. The Lords and Ladiee now abroad. C£ Pasquil's 
Palinoda, 1634: 

The lords of castles, mannors, townes, and towers, 
Rejoic'd when they beheld the farmers flourish. 

And would come down imto the summer bowers. 
To see the country g^aUants dance the morrice. 

460. Now Butter with a leafe of Sage is good to Purge 
the blond. The only account of the medicinal properties 
supposed to belong to May-butter which I have foimd is the 
foUowing: 'If during the moneth of May before you salt 
your butter you save a lumpe thereof, and put it into a 
vessel, and so set it into the Sim the space of that moneth, 
you shall find it exceeding soveraigne and medicinable for 
woimds, strains, aches, and such like grievances.' G. Mark- 
ham, English Housewife, 1637, p. 199. 

461. Fly Venus and Phlebotomy. Venus, as here em- 
ployed, is an obsolete euphemism for venery. Phlebotomy, 
or blood-letting, was formerly an extremely common feature 
of medical treatment 

ACT IV] Nous 243 

Cf. Philaster 2. 2: 'Your grace mxx^ Jfy phlebotomy, fredi 
pork, conger, and clarified whey; they are all dnlleis of the 
vital spirits.' C£ also A Wife for a Month 3. 3: 

Phlebotomy, and the word be nigher. 
Take heed o£^ friend, I thee require. 

463. And sluggiah snailB, iiiat ent were mnti^ do ereep 
out of their ahelleB. Snails were used in love divinations ; 
they were sent to crawl on the hearth, and were thought to 
mark in the ashes the initials of the unknown lovo-. CL 
Brand, Pop. Antiq. 1. 38& 

The divination regarding the snail on May-day is pre- 
served in Gay's Shepherd's Week, 4th Pastoral: 

Last May-day £Eur, I searched to find a snail. 
That might my secret lover's name reveal: 
Upon a goos^erry-bush a snail I found. 
For always snails near sweetest fruit abound. 
I seized die vermine; home I quickly sped. 
And on the hearth the milk-wlnte embm ipread: 
Slow crawl'd the snail, and, if I right can qpell, 
In the soft ashes marked a curious L: 
Oh, may tiiis wondrous omen lucky prove! 
For L is found in Lubberidn and Love. 

Sympson and succeeding editors read meufd. Sympson 
says: 'I have ventured to aher nmU into the old word 

menfd, L e. shut up, confined.' CtfA, Diet, gives nrne as 

obsolete spelling of mew. Hence, mute C<). 

They keep me meufd tq> here as they tnew mad folks. 

Humorous LieuUmMt 4. 0. 

468. beUowing. 'So the first 4 to. Other eds. "" blowing " ; 
and so the modem editors, Weber ezcq>ted. The worthy 
prioress of Sopwell, describing the various cries of beasts 
of chase, says, 

"An harte belowyth and a bucke groynyth I fynde." 

Book of Saint Albans, sig. d. iL' ^P>'ce. 

468. the Raaeal and the Pricket Rascal is an obsolete 
name for a deer too young^and lean, or of too inferior a 

244 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act it 

quality, to hunt as food. Cf. As You Like It S.3: * Horns? 
Even so. Poor men alone ? No, no ; the noblest deer hath 
them as huge as the mscal.^ 

A pricket is *a buck in his second year: probably so 

called from his horns.' Cent. Diet 

473. lift aloft your velnet heads. 'A sly allusion to the 

horns of the citizens.' Dyce. Cf. Philaster 4. 2, in which 

a woodman says that Pharamond's steward would have a 
deer's ' velvet-head into the bargain, to turf his hat withaL* 
On this passage, Dyce has the foUowing note: '"His [Ae 
hart's] head [i. e. horns], when it commeth first out, hath a 
russet pyll vpon it, the which is called Veluet, and his head 
is called then a velvet-head.^^ The Noble Art of Venerie, &c 
by Turbervile, 1611, p. 244.' 

* Cuckolds were fancifully said to wear horns on the 

brow.' A^. E, Z). It is a very old saying, widely prevalrat 

throughout Europe, that a husband wears horns, or is a cormtte, 
when his wife proves false to him. The origin of the idea, as 
well as its exact significance, has had various assignments. 
Brand has a chapter on * Comutes,' Pop. AnHq. 2. 181. 

474. With bels on legs, and napkins cleane vnto your 
shoulders tide. The use of bells was the distinctive char- 
acteristic of the Morris, the feature which separated it from 
dances of a similar nature. Cf. Chambers, Mediceval Stage 
1. 200. We learn from Stubbes (cf. note to 4. 421) that 
around each leg of the Morris-dancer were tied from twent}' 
to forty bells. The chief of these were designated the fore- 
beU, the second bell, the treble, the tenor, the base, and 
the double beU. According to Douce, sometimes only the 
trebles were used. *But these refinements were of later 
times. The bells were occasionally jingled by the hands, 
or placed on the arms or wrists of the parties.' Illustra- 
tions of Shakespeare, p. 603. 

Douce cites The Knight of the Burning Pestle and Stubbes 
in the passage just alluded to as evidence that 'handker- 
chiefs, or napkins, as they were sometimes called, were held 
in the hand, or tied to the shoulders.' Cf. Women Pleased 
4. 1: 

ACT iv] Notes MS 

. . . Where are your ttlh, thai? 
Your rings, your ribbands, friend? and your dean m a p k im s ? 

Cf. Shirley, Lady of Pkasmre 1. 1 : 

How they become a morris, widi wfaose bells 

They ring all into Whitsim ales; and sweat, 

Through twenty scarfs and napkins, tfll the hobby-horse 

Tire, and the Maid Biarian, dissohred to a jelly. 

Be kept for spoonmeat! 

476. WiVti Scarfes k Oartera. These were not necesaarily 
festive articles of clothing. During the sixteenth and seven- 
teenth centuries, scarfs were mnch worn, particnlarty by 
knights and military officers, and mider the name of aadies 
are still distinguishing marks of rank in the army. Regard- 
ing garters, Stowe says : ' At tiiis day men of meane rank 
weare garters and shoe roses of more than ^e^ poonds price.' 
' They were, in the time of James I, small sashes of silk, 

tied in a large bow, and the ends of point lace.' Planche, 

Diet, of Costume, p. 199. 

476. Hey for our Town cri'd. 'Avery nsnal exclamation at 
processions similar to the present Bnder nses the same ex- 
pression in a passage where he probably recollected the text : 

..." Followed with a world of tall lads. 

That merry ditties troul'd and ballads, 

Did ride with many a good-morrow. 

Crying, hey for our town, tiirough the borourfL" ' 

480. To Hogsdon or to Hewingion, where Ale and Cakes 
are plenty. Cf. Wither, BriUdtfs Remembrancer, 1628: 

And Hogsdon, Islington, and Totenham-court, 
For cakes and cream had then no small resort. 

* Hogsdon, or Hoxton, mentioned in Domesday as Hocheston, 
a manor belonging to the cathedral of St Paul, whose prop- 
erty it still is, a suburban district within the parish of St 
Leonard, Shoreditch, l3dng to the north of the Shore^itch 

end of Old Street Road and west of Kingsland Road.* 

Wh.-C. 2. 245. Hogsdon Fields formed a common pleasure- 

246 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act it 

ground for the Londoners on holidays. Master Stephen, the 
country gull in Every Man in His Humour, lived in Hogs- 
don. It is a fact which causes the following expression from 
him: 'Because I live at Hogsdon, I shall keep company wlISr. 
none but the archers of Finsbury, or the citizens that come 
a-ducking to Islington ponds ! Slid ! a gentleman mun show 

himself like a gentleman.' 1. 1. Sir Epicure Mammon has 

the following dream about Hogsdon : 

He would have built 
The City new; and made a ditch about it 
Of silver, should have run with cream from Hogsdon, 
That every Sunday in Moorfields the younkers 
And tits and tom-boys should have fed on j?ratis. 

Atchemisi 5. 3. 

Newington, situated on the Surrey side of the Thames, 
became famous as a resort of the populace for the practice 
of archery, and after 1668, when by royal mandate the 
butts were set up for purposes of drill, it was known as 
Newington Butts. 

483. thrumming of our caps. ' Thrumming of caps. Set- 
ting on the tufts or thrums upon a coarse cap. In the 
following instance, it is applied to a man setting his beard 
in order: 

"5^/. Let me set my beard vp. 
How has Pinac performed ? 

Mir. He has won already. 
He stands not thrumming of caps thus." 

Fletcher, Wild-goose Chase 2. 3. Or it might mean playing 
with his hat or cap like a person thrumming an instrument; 
which is a theatrical symptom of irresolution. But the former 
explanation is confirmed by this line of Quarles : 

"Are we bom to thrum caps, or pick straws?" Judgm. 
& Mercy.* Nares, Glossary, 

487. With Drums and Guns that bounce alowd, k mery 
Taber playing. These were the usual accompaniments of 
the May-game. Strutt cites Strype, who speaks of * a goodly 
May-game in Fenchurch-street, with drums and guns, and 
pikes.' Sports and Pastimes, p. 353. Stubbes declaims 

ACT v] Notes 247 

against ' their baudie pipers and thunderii^ drummers." C£ 
4. 421, and note. 'Tom the Vipex, with Tabor and Pq)e' 
was often a constituent figure of the Morris. 

The tabor wzs not unlike a tambourine (without the jingles), 
and usually formed an accompaniment to the pipe. 'The 
tabor was a diminutive drum, without snares, hui^ by a 
short string to the waist or left arm, and tapped with a 
small drumstick. There is a woodcut of William Kemp, 
the actor, playing pipe and tabor in his Morris dance to 
Norwich, and another of Tarleton, the Ehzabedian jester, in 
the same attitude. The writer is informed by Mr. William 
Chappell that Hardman, a nrasic-sdler at York, described 
the instruments to him fifty years ago as above, adding that 
he had sold them, and that country people still occasionally 
bought theuL' Grove, Did, of Music. 

Act V. 

3. weewill hane a Capm in siewad lirotli, with marrow, 
and a good peeoe of beriiB. A characteristic wedding-feast 
In The London ChofOickers, Dods.-Haz^ OldEng. Plays 12. 341, 
one of the characters foretells to his prospective bride some 
of the peculiarities of their wedding-dinner : ' Then a leg of 
beef shall walk round the taHe, like a city captain with a 
target of lamb before it : a snipe, with his long bill, shall 
be a sergeant, and a capon carry the drumsticlL Thou 
shalt be a lady-general, and pick out the choicest of every 
dish for thy life guard.' 

4. beefe,8tnckewithroae-mar7. Old (days contain frequent 
evidences of the custom of using rosemary as a symbol of 
remembrance. It was emfdoyed both at weddings and 
funerals. In The Wonuuis Prize 1. 1, 'The parties enter 
with rosemary as from a wedding^ C£ The Pilgrim 6. 6 : 

Well, well, since wedding will come after wooing, 
Give me some rosemary, and lets be going. 

The rosemary used at weddings was previously dipped in 
scented water. C£ The Scornful Lady 1. 12: 'Were the 

248 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act t 

rosemary branches dipt ... I would not wed.' The plant, 
as a bond of love, is celebrated in Robinson's HandtfuU cf 
Pleasant Deities, 1684 : 

Rosemarie is for remembrance 
Betweene us daie and night, 

Wishing that I may always have 
You present in my sight 

Cf. Hamkt 4. 6 : * There's rosemary, that's for remembrance.' 
Nares cites our play to show that rosemary was some- 
times made a garnish for the meats. CL Pericles 4. 4 : ' Marry, 
come up, my dish of chastity with rosemary and bays.' There 
is an accoimt of 'Rosemary at weddings' in Brand's Pop, 
Antiq. 2. 119. 
14. To farre. *So the first 4to. Later eds, "To"; and 

so the modem editors ! ' Dyce. Dyce was the first editor 

to realize that the far of the text is an obsolete verb mean- 
ing to remove. Cf. Glossary. 

27. Inuisible to all men but thy Bslfe. 'In this passage 
our author evidently has an eye to the ghost of Banquo in 

Macbeth.' Dyce. In ed. 1778 it is regarded as a ridicule 

on Macbeth. 

28. And whisper sach a sad tale in thine ears. Cf. 2. 
173, and note. 

29. Shall make. (It) shall make. * Where there can be 
no doubt what is the nominative it is sometimes omitted.' 

Abbott, Shakes. Gram, p. 287. Cf. 4. 298, and note. C£ 

Macbeth 4. 2 : 

I take my leave of you : 
Shall not be long but HI be here again. 

30. And stand as mute and pale as Death itself. Darley 
remarks upon the passage ending with this line: *How are 
we struck by this awfiil picture, by its visionary character 
so well harmonising with the words which sound as if heard 
in a terrific dream? How are disappointed when we find 
the ghost is but Jasper who has had "his feice mealed," 
and the passage itself extracted fi-om a mock-heroic pkiy, 
"The Knight of the Burning Pestle"?' Introduction, p. 

ACT y] N§sa 249 

XXXn. Darley uses this OkBtntioB to point ^b 4iB i ng'i,c 
that Beaumont and Fletcher are aore jgir r j tf t l r at read des- 
ultorily than amsecnthn^. 

58. Saint F^ihs CbnrA TnivFadH. Ax &e 
of this Jesus chapel, under the ciioir of Vmsk%^ ^Jso 
parish church of St. Faith, riw i mwui r caled SL FmA 
PauFs, which served for die itatinnm aad otbea 
in Pauleys church-yard, Pateniailer Itnm^ aad &e pbces 1 
adjoining. The said daaspA of JeaoB beini^ scfipreaKd r: lie 
reign of Edward VI, the parwlii ni ir is of %L ¥^aii^'% chnrcii 
were removed into the same, as to a place more srfinnr 
for largeness and HghtsomenesB, in die rear 155L aad so k 

remaineth.' Stow, Survey, pu 123L Qfeed, in part, by Dyce. 

Humphrey's evident intention to wididrzw frcMn piaoes of 
' lightsomeness,' and to wear oat his sfaoe-sc^es in the dariL 
would indicate that his place of r et ire ment vas to be tise 
original St. Faith's. 

Our friend's gloomy state of mind is ^Efidy mdirated in 
this resolve of his, since dandieai of his sort were prone, j^a 
to hide in obscure retreats Hke Sc Faith s, but to vie widi 
each other in a display of tfaeir fine dothing and hangfaty 
manners in Paul's Walk or Doke Hu mf feey s Walk, the cen- 
tral aisle of the church itsel£ Captain BobadiO in Ben Jon- 
son's Every Man in His Hunumr is a ' Panics man.' Chap. 4 
of Dekker's GuWs Hornbook is entitled ' How a gaDant should 
behave himself in Powles walkes.' Act 3, sc. 1, of Ben Jon- 
son's Every Man Out of His Hmnour is laid in Ehike Hum- 
phrey's Walk ; so also is Act 1, sc. 1, of Middleton's Michael- 
mas Term. 

65. I would hane thee call all the yontliea together in 
battle-ray. Entick says that about this time the military 
ardor of the Londoners was manifested, not only in the 
numerous response of the adults to the king's musters, Init 
in the martial spirit of the rising generation. ' The children 
endeavoured to imitate their parents; chose officers, formed 
themselves into companies, marched often into the fields with 
colours flying and beat of drums, and there, by frequent prac- 
tice, grew up expert in the military exercise.' Survey 2.116. 

250 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act t 

66. drams, and gim8» and flags. Under Elizabeth, and in 
the reigns preceding hers, the drum and the fife were die 
musical instruments of the infsuitry, but thereafter the infantry 
had only the drum, until fifes were restored to use in 1745. 
Aside from serving as the accompaniment on the march, 
the drum was used to signal the different movements in the 
drills. The chief beats of the drum on these occasions were 
a Call, a Troop, a Preparation, a March, a Battaile, a Retreat 
terms which are minutely defined by Grose, Milit.Antiq.2Al, 

Gims of the period were of different sorts and denomi- 
nations. The first guns fired by hand were caUed hand- 
cannons, culverines, and hand-guns. The instruments used 
in the infantry, however, were the muskets, and these the 
Wife undoubtedly has in mind. The muskets were de- 
velopments of the cruder, but lighter, harquebuses, and 
were so heavy that they had to be supported on a fort 
called a rest, when presented in order to fire. They were 
fired with match-locks. Besides the musket and the rest, the 
soldier had to carry with him a bullet-bag, a powder-fiask, 
and a match-cord. 

Flags, banners, pencils, and other ensigns, are of great 
antiquity ; their use was to distinguish the troops of differ- 
ent nations or provinces within the larger armies, and in 
smaller bodies, the troops of the different leaders. They 
also served to point out rallying-places for broken battalions 
or squadrons, and the stations of the chief officers. 

67. march to Mile end. The mimicry which the Wife here 
proposes is intended to be in ridicule of the manoeuvers of 
the City train bands at Mile End. Cf. Introd., p. CXL 

68. exhort your Souldiers to be merry and wise. Cf 2. 
102, and note. 

68. to keeps their beards from burning. An evident al- 
lusion to the danger arising from the powder, matches, and 
other inflammable articles which the musketeers carried. 

70. cry kill. kill. kilL Cf Uar 4. 6: 

And when I have stoPn upon these sons-in-law. 
Then, kill, kUl, kill, kill, kill, kill! 

Fumess has the following note upon these lines in Lear: 

ACT v] Notes 251 

* Malone : " This was formerly the word given in the Eng- 
lish army when an onset was made. So in Ven. 6» Ad. 662 : 
in a peaceful hour doth cry "kill, kill"" Again, in The 
Mirtourfor Magistrates 1610, p. 315 : " Our Englishmen came 
boldly forth at night. Crying Saint George, Salisbury, kill, kilL" * 

71. lerkin. *A short body-garment of the jacket or doublet 
variety, for either of which it appears to have been used 
indiscriminately during the sixteenth century ... Its exact 
shape and £Eishion varied at different times, and the only 
absolute definition of it I ever met with occurs in Meriton's 
' Clavis * 1697, the compiler stating that " a jerkin is a kind 
of jacket or upper doublet with four skirts or laps." . . . The 
word has become obsolete, while jacket is as much in re- 
quest as ever.* Planche, Diet, of Costume. 

72. scarfe. 'Scarfs were worn by knights and military 
officers in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and under 
the name of sashes are still distinguishing marks of rank in 
the army. Before the establishment of uniforms the scarf 
was also a sign of company.' Planche, Diet, of Costume. 

In Grose's Milit. Antiq. 1. 133, there is a picture of a 
pikeman, whose scarf is flung over the right shoulder and 
tied in a single knot upon the left hip. The ends are hung 
with tassels. Cf. 4. 421, and note. 

72. for the rest^ the house shall ftinush 70a. The tiring- 
house shall furnish you. C£ Ind. 96, and note. 

In Grose's MiHt. Antiq. 1. 131, is the following description 
of the soldiers' outfit : ' The armes that we must carry must 
be there: first of all, the corslet complete with the tasses, 
i. e. skirts downe to the knee, hose of male, a codpeece of 
yron, good vambraces, and gauntlets or gloves of male, and 
a good head peece, with the sight almost covered. The 
other hamesse for the body must be a shirt or jerkin, with 
sleeves and gloves of male, and a head peece with the face 

76. for the honour of the Gitty. Cf 4. 427, and note. 

77. let me neoer hope for freedom. That is, civic free- 
dom won through the medium of apprenticeship. Cf. Ind. 
16, and note. 

252 Tfie Knight of the Burning Pestle [act v 

83. Let him looke narrowly io his semioe* I ahall take 
him else. Let him give careful direction to the drill ; other- 
wise I shall take his place myself. Tcdte in the sense of 
displace, which it manifestly means here, is not noted in the 
dictionaries. Cf. The Beggar's Bush 4. 6: 

Look well, look narrowly upon her beauties. 

84. pike*man. The infsmtry in the reign of James I con- 
sisted of pikemen and musketeers. From the reign of 
Henry Vm to that of William m, the greater part of the 
English Army was formed of pikemen. Cf Farrow, MiUkary 

85. had my feather ahot sheere away. The cut in Grose's 
Milit, Antiq, 1. 163, representing a 17th century pikeman, 
shows his helmet to be surmoimted by an enormous ostrich 

86. fringe of my pike burnt off. Presumably the injured 
* fringe ' is that of the cloth ornament known as the armin, 
which is thus described in a military work, called the Arl 
of Training, 1622: *You had then armins for 3'our pikes, 
which have a graceful shew, for many of them were of vel- 
vet, embroidered with gold, and served for fastness when 
the hand sweat; now I see none, and some inconveniences 
are found by them.' Cited by Grose, Milit. Antiq, 2. 278. 

The pike was a species of spear or lance, solely appro- 
priated to the infantry. It was introduced into France under 
Louis XI by the Switzers, and soon became of general use 
in European armies. It was used in England from the reign 
of Ekiward IV to that of George H. Grose cites Markham 
(Soldier's Accidence, 1648), who sajs : * The pikemen should 
have strong, straight, yet nimble pikes of ash-wood, well 
headed with steel, and armed with plates downward from 
the head, at least four feet, and the full size or length of 

every pike shall be fifteen feet, besides the head.* Afilit 

Antiq, 2. 277. The pike is now superseded by the bayonet 
on the end of the musket. 

90. Ran, tan, tan, &c. The passage recalls Justice Shal- 
low's description : * I remember at Mile-end Green, when I 

ACT v] Notes 253 

lay at Clement's Inn, 1 was then Sir Dagonet in Arthur's 

show, there was a little quiver fellow, and a' would man- 
age you his piece thus ; and a* would about and about, and 
come you in, and come you in: "rah, tah, tah," would a' 
say ; " boimce " would a' say ; and away again would a' go, 
and again would a* come: I shall ne'er see such a fellow.' 
2 Henry IV 3. 2. 

Concerning this resemblance, Coleridge says : * That Beau- 
mont and Fletcher have more than once been guilty of 
sneering at their great master, cannot, I fear, be denied ; but 
the passage quoted by Theobald from the "Knight of the 
Biiming Pestle" is in imitation. If it be chargeable with 

any fault, it is with plagiarism, not with sarcasm.' Notes 

on Shakespeare's Plays. 

91. little Ned of Algate. The deeds of this redoubtable 
boy, if he really existed, seem not to have been duly rec- 
ognized in history. I can find no record of them. 

Algate or Aldgate is one of the twenty-six wards of Lon- 
don. It is located near the site of the gate in the old City 
waU towards the East ; hence its name. Cf. Ind. 3, and note. 

91. drum Ned. The importance of the drummer is indi- 
cated by a quotation made by Grose from a Military Col- 
lection of Elizabeth's reign: *A11 captains must have dromes 
and phiphes and men to iise the same, who should be faith- 
ful, secret, yngenious, of able personage to use their instru- 
ments and office, of sundrie languages, for often tymes they 
are sent to parlie with their enemies, to summon their forts 
and towns, to redeme and conduct prisoners, and diverse 
other messages, which of necessitie require languages; if 
such dromes or phiphers should fortune to fall into the 
hands of their enemies, no gifte or force should cause them 
to disclose any secret that they know; they must often 
practise their instruments, teache the company the sound 
of the march, allarme, approach, assolte, battel, retreat, 
skirmish, or any other calling that of necessity should be 
known.* Milit. Antiq. 2. 43. 

101. company. The consistency of a company of infantry 
varied slightly from time to time. Typical companies of 

254 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act t 

the period were those sent to the Palatinate. They were 
each made up of one hundred and forty-four privates, three 
gentlemen, three corporals, and two drummers. The com- 
missioned officers to each company were a captain, a lieuten- 
ant, and ensign. Cf. Grose, MiUt. Aniiq. 1. 182. 

101. colours. * The colours of the foote, frequently b}' the 
old writers stiled ensigns, are square, but larger than the 
banners or standards of the horse; they are fixed on a spear; 
formerly there was a stand of colours to every company: 
they were in time of action guarded by two ranks of hal- 

bardiers.' Grose, MilU. Antiq. 2. 63. Grose sa3rs that the 

colours of every captain 'should be blazoned with Saint 
George's Armes alone, but with so many spots or several 
devices as pertain to the dignity of their respective places.* 
This gives us the insignia of our Captain Ralph. As to the 
composures of hues, from which these flags took their name, 
Grose quotes Markham, Soldiet^s Accidence, p. 31 : * There 
must be in military honour nine several £Eu:es, or complex- 
ions, that is to say, two which be called mettals, as yellow 
and white, figuring gold and silver ; seven which are called 
proper colours, as black, white, blew, red, green, purple, 
timnis, and ermine.' Certain mixtures of these shades were 
supposed to bring disgrace to the ensign, and were dis- 
countenanced. Grose gives the signification of the legitimate 
colors, i. e., yellow betokens honor, blue, faith, &c 

102. March fiure. An old form of miUtary command, which 
is not noticed in the dictionaries. It tmdoubtedly means 
* march without haste or violence.' 

In Heywood's / Edward IV, the rebels under Falconbridge 
enter * marching as being at Mile-end.' One of the officers 
says to them : * March fair, ye rogues, all kings or cap- 
knitters.' Cf. soft and faire, 6. 142, and note. 

102. Lieutenant beate the reare vp. Among other duties 
devolving upon the lieutenant, 'he is to order and ranke 
the company fit for his captaine to march with ; hee is to 
divide his company into foure divisions; making two di\TS- 
ions of the pikes and two of the musquetieres ; hee is to 
ranke the first division of musquets in the front, and the 

ACT v] Nous 2SS 

second division of mnsqnets in tie raune of tie pikes,- hee ts 
to march in the reare of tie compamy ittto tie field; and in 
marching out of the field, die captaine is to march in the 

rear, and the lieutenant in the firont.' Ward, Amtmad- 

versions of Warre, 1639, quoted by Grose, MiStAntiq. 2. 3S3. 
To beat vp, in military parlance, is to sonmion or call to- 
gether as by beat of drum; wdi-known in die phrase to 
beat up recruits. The spea&c name of the drumbeat at 
which, as in the present instanre, the troops are to faML in, 
and the roll to be caUed, is die Assembly or Troop. C£ 
Grose, Miiit. AnUq. 2. 4& 

103. Andante let your coloim llye. The obsolete word 
ancient is used to denote eidier die standard or die standard- 
bearer. N, E, D. gives it as a comqition of ensign. 

There were mariced regulations as to the occasions for 
letting the colors fly, and violation broug h t disgraces upon 
the bearer : ' as in carrying his colours fnri'd ^or folded; up, 
when they should be flying: or to let his colours fly when 
they should be folded up; or to dispk^' (or nourish them; 
when they should be carried without any hand motions; or 
to carry them without modoo when they should be dii^layed ; 
or to vaile them when they should be advanced, or to advance 

them when they should be vailed.' Grose, Miiit. Antiq. 2. 

141. Pertinent to our passage was the rule diat upon a regi- 
ment's march throu^ a dty or town the ensign-bearer should 
unfurl or open his colors, and let them fly at full length. 

105. the ButcherB hookes at wfaHe-OiappeL Whitechapel 
is a parish lying east of Aldgate, and stretching away to 
Bilile End. It is a commercial district, but, in respect to 
most of its inhabitants, poor. The chief thoroughfare in 
Whitechapel, together with Aldgate High Street adjoining 
it, was formerly an important butchers' market ' The great 
street in Whitechapel is one of the broadest and most public 
streets in London; and the side where the butchers livf^d 
more like a green field than a paved street ; toward Whit^-^ 
chapel church the street was not all paved, l^t the part 

that was paved was full of grass.' The City Remembrancer 


256 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act t 

105. the death of many a faire Ancient. It is obvioos 
that here may be meant the destruction of the standard 
Cf. 5. 103, and note. It is quite possible, however, that the 
standard-bearer may be meant, and that the play is satiriz- 
ing the excessive punishments meted out to the ensign- 
carriers for injuries sustained by the colours. Cf. Grose, 
MiliU Antiq, 2. 142. 

106. Open your files. ' Both ranks and files had three dif- 
ferent distances at which they stood ; they were distinguished 
by the terms: 1st open order; 2d order; and 3d close order: 
the first was six feet ; the second three feet ; and the third 
only one foot and a half. For open order, a distance of 
six feet was taken by each file, standing so far firom their 
right and left hand men, that their arms being mutuaDy 

extended, their finger ends would just meet' Grose, MihL 

Antiq, 1. 350. 

106. that I may take a view both of your persons and 
munition. Ward says of captain that ' he ought to see his 
souldiers furnished with all things needful : as armes, munitioii 
and their weekly pay duely at the appoynted times. ... I 
he be in garrison . . . hee is precisely to go the first round 
himselfe, being ay<kd with Serjeant and divers gentlemen, 
where he may view the strength and sufficiency of every 
guard, &c.' Quoted in Milit. Antiq, 2. 249. 

107. Sergeant call a muster. The sergeant here plays the 
part of clerk. Grose cites Ralph Smith, an Elizabethan 
authorithy, who describes the method of calling the roll at 
a muster: *At every mustering or assemblinge. the captaines 
bill shalbe called by the clarke, every man answeringe to 
his own name, marching foorthe as he is called, that noc 
man unto twoe names make answere; yi any souldier bee 
sicke or hurte, being not serviceable, paye him his ^^'ages, 
give him his pasporte, send him home, fiimish his roome 
vnth an hable souldier; yf any helthfull souldier absente 
himself at such tymes, let him be punished as in the statutes 
is mentioned, to the example of the rest.* Milit^ntiq. 1. 185. 

'A Serjeant ought to be a man of good experience, and 
sufficiently instructed in all martial exercises. He ought to 

ACTv] Notes 257 

be learned both in writing and arithmetic ; he is always to 
have a squadron-rowk about him, wherein hee should dis- 
tinguish every man by the armes he beares.* ^Ward, quoted 

in Milit, Antiq. 2. 258. 

110. A Corselet and a Spanish pike. 'The corselet was 
a suit of armour chiefly worn by pikemen, who were thence 
often denominated corselets. Strictly speaking, the word 
corselet meant only that part which covered the body, but 
was generally used to express the whole suit, imder the 
terms of a corselet furnished or complete. This included 
the head-piece and gorgett, the back and breast, with skirts 

of iron called tasses or tassets covering the thighs.* Grose, 

Miiit. Antiq. 2. 261. 

Grose quotes a sixteenth century author who says that the 
Spanish pike was an especially faithful imitation of the pike 
made by the Switzers. I have found no other mention of a 
Spanish pike except in Shirley's Young Admiral 3. 1. Grose 
says that there was a Morris or Moorish pike greatly in fashion 
imder Elizabeth, though he is unable to state its peculiar 
characteristics. It is possible that Moorish and Spanish pikes 
were the same. 

The cause of Ralph's interest in his soldiers' equipment is 
the fact that the object of a muster was not only to ascer- 
tain the niunber of men, but likewise to examine their 
armor and weapons. This practice went back at least to 
Henry V, who, in his ordinances of war, made provision 
that each captain should make inspections of his company 
at the musters when required, and report the results to his 
superiors. Cf. Grose 1. 183. 

118. peece. Any sort of fire-arm might be called a piece. 
Green-goose, however, being an infantry-man, is probably 
possessed of a musket. 

120. And. *An't. Here the old eds. have "and": but see 
fourth speech after this.' Dyce. 

128. feather. Sometimes the fork, or rest, upon which 
the musket was supported in action, was ' armed with a con- 
trivance known as a swings feather, which was a sort of 
sword blade, or tuck, that issued from the staff of the rest, 


258 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act v 

at the head; this being placed before the musqueteers 
when loading, served, like the stakes placed before the 
archers, to keep off the cavalry : these preceded the use of 
the bayonets ; the invention of which originated in the sol- 
diers sticking the handles of their daggers into the muzzles 
of their pieces, when they had discharged all their ammih 
nition.* Grose, MiliL Aniiq, 2. 293. 

128. sweet oyle, and paper. 'In time of marching and 
travelling by the way, let him [i. e., the musketeer] keepc 
a paper in his paime and tutch-hole. ... It is moreover 
requisite, that a souldier keepe his cocke with cyk free in 

falling, andhispeece bright without rusting.' Treatise, 1619, 

cited by Grose, Milit. Antiq. 2. 122. 

129. Where's your powder? * Hee [i. e. the captain] is to 
see the bandyliers filled with powder, with sufficient match 
and bullets.' Ward, quoted in MiUL Antiq. 2. 260. 

133. it cranes a Martiall Conrt. Grose says that it is not 
easy to ascertain at what time courts martial, according to 
their present form, were first held. They are mentioned, 
however, with the distinction of general and regimental, in the 
Ordinances of James 11, 1686. During the reign of James I, 
controversies between officers and soldiers were settled, 
seemingly, in a mixed form of martial court, composed both 
of civil and military members. Cf. Mi/it. Antiq. 2. 61. 

134. Where's your home? *The balls were carried in 
a bag or purse, the powder in a horn or flask, and the prim- 
ing, which was a finer sort of mealed powder, in a touch- 
box.' Grose, Miiii. Antiq. 2. 292. 

141. flaske. Cf. 5. 134, and note. 

145. stone of this peece. The old fashioned gun-flint is 
here in mind. The lighter pieces of ordnance were set off 
by a wheel-lock, a contrivance for producing sparks of fire by 
the friction of a notched wheel of steel, which grated against 
a flint. These wheels were wound up with an instrument 
called a spanner. Cf. Grose, Miiii. Antiq. 2. 291. 

'About seaven of the clocke marched forward the eight 

peeces of ordinance, ^\^th stone and powder.' Holinshed, 

Chronicles 3. 947. 

ACT v] Notes 259 

Evidently the 2d soldier does not bear a musket, since 
that weapon was lighted with a match-lock and was very 
heavy. He must be canying some smaller hand-gun, such 
as the harquebus. 

150. I meane to stoppe it in the pay. I mean to keep 
back, withhold, the cost of the damages from the wages. 
Cf. 2 Henry IV. 6. 1 : * do you mean to stop any of William's 
wages, about the sack he lost the other day at Hinckley 
Fair ? ' Cf. also Pope, Imitations of Horace 2. 2. 63 : 

Nor stops, for one bad cork, his butler's pay. 

Grose says that, in a 17th century estimate of army ex- 
penses, flasks are charged at 1 lb. 8 s. each. The daily 
wage of the common soldier was usually 8d. Cf. Milit. 
Aniiq. 1. 271. 

150. Bemoue and march, &c. In connection with the 
passage beginning here, we may again quote Ward: *At 
all convenient times he [i. e. the captain] is to drill his soul- 
diers very accurately, shewing them all the postures of the 
pike and musquet, then how to march, counter march, to 
double their files and rankes, the middle men to double to 
the front, to advance forwards, and to retreat backwards at 
the sotmd of the drumme, to wheele about, his musquetiers, 
to make redy, present and give fire, to give fire in the 
front, in the reare and upon either flanke, to fall off by 
files and give fire.' Quoted in Milit. Antiq. 2. 251. 

151. soft and fairs. This, or the reverse expression, ' fair 
and softly,' is an obsolete phrase frequently met with in 
old writers. It indicates ease of movement, absence of 
haste, &c., and, as here, may be used as an admonition, i. e. 
* Gently ! quietly ! Take your time I ' N. E. D. cites Top- 
sell, Four/. Beasts, 1607: 'The proverb is old and true, 
Fair and softly goeth far." ' 

152. doable your files, as you were, faces about. In the 
time of James I, as now, to double the files meant simply 
to put two files in one, and so make the ranks smaller. Of 
the second phrase in the text, Markham, Souldier's Accidence, 
1625, p. 21, says: *To reduce any of these words of direction 


26o The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act v 

to the same order or station in which the Souldier stood 

before . . . you shall say As you were^ 'Faces about is 

the military' word of command equivolent to wkeeL In the 
Souldier's Accidence the officers are directed to give tbe 
word of command in these terms: 

Faces to the right 

Faces to the left 

Faces about, or / u- u • n » 

Faces to the reare | "^^""^ "^ ^ ^"^ 

Cf. GifFord*s note on Jonson's Every Man in his Humour 3. 1. 

Or when my muster-master 
Talks of his tacticks, and his ranks and files, 
His bringers-up, his leaders-on; and cries, 
Faces about, to the right hand, the left, 
Now, as you were, 

Ben Jonson, Stapk of News 4. 4. 

154. match. The muskets were fired with a match. A 
spring let down a burning match upon the priming in the 
pan. The contrivance was known as a match-lock. 

155. make a crescent now, aduance jour pikes. When 
the companies were drawn up for exercise or a review, Ae 
ordinary formations were squares and rectangles, but the 
manoeuvers of the time included a variety of whimsical 
figures, of which Grose mentions wings, wedges, rhombs, 
triangles, the shears, and the saw. These absurd conceits 
were ridiculed as puerile exercises. The line of the cres- 
cent, however, was not an unusual formation. 

The Christian crew came on in forme of battayle pight, 
And like a cressent cast themselves preparing for the fight 

Gascoigne, Flowers, 1572. 

Advancing the pike was a regular part of the militai}' 
drill. The posture consisted of three motions by which the. 
lower end of the pike was lifted fi-om the ground to the 
right hip of the soldier. The movements are illustrated in 
Milit, Antiq, 1. 256. 

155. stand and glue ear. 'The audience were to suppose 
that Ralph and his soldiers had now arrived at Mile-End.' 

ACTv] Notes 261 

159. io measnre out . . . Honour by the ell ; and prowesse 
by the pound. It is perhaps a supererogation to call atten- 
tion to the expressive satire in these lines upon the per- 
sistent materialism in the conceptions of the old dramatists* 
average audience. 

The idea is perhaps suggested by a speech of Captain 
Spicing in Heywood's / Edward IV, p. 10, ed. Dyce : 

Peace,- ye rogues; what, are you quarrelling? 

And now list to Captaine Spicing. 

You know Cheapstae: there are mercer's shops, 

Where we will measure velvet by the pikes, 

And silkes and satins by the street's whole breadth. 

162. beare your seines in this faire action, like men, &c. 
* He [L e. the captain] must be familiar and eloquent in per- 
suading and diswading his souldiers, and to stirre up their 

valors to undergoe pain and peril.' Ward, quoted in 

Miiit Aniiq. 2. 261. 

166. Carre. Altered by Weber to cart. Formerly car 
was more frequently used than at present to denote any 
common cart or wagon; now it is usually found in this 
general sense with dignified or poetic associations. For the 
more antiquated use, cf. Beawes, Lex Mercat., 1752, p. 899 : 
'Merchants, and others that use Carrs or Carts.' 

171-78. for you shall see . . . children. May not these 
lines have been suggested by Richmond's speech m Richard III 
5. 8? Richmond says: 

If you do fight in safeguard of your wives. 
Your wives shall welcome home the conquerors; 
If you do free your children from the sword, 
You children's children quit it in your age. 

178. whose care doth beare yon company in baskets. 

Nothing could more pimgently denote the contrast between 
the train bands' pompous displays and their actual triviality 
than this satirical thrust : the notion of the domestic larder 
seriously figuring as commisariat for ' the noble defenders of 
the realm' is assuredly unique and absurd. 

176. sort Company, band. *The Editors of 1778 
gave the whole of this speech in verse. Weber very prop- 

262 Tfie Knight of the Burning Pestle [act ? 

erly threw it back into prose, with the exception of the 
present passage beginning ' To a resolved mind,* which seems 
to be a recollection of Shakespeare : 

Remember whom you are to cope withal, 

A sort of vagabonds, rascals, and runawa3rs, &c. 

Richard III, 6. 3.' Dyce 

The editors of 1778, indeed, gave not only this speech 
but the whole of the mihtary episode in verse an arbi- 
trary, as well as awkward, arrangement. 

177. Stand io your tacklings. This resembles the cau- 
tionary command, 'Stand to your arms,* when soldiers are 
put upon the alert. 

179. as Bhake an apron. Cf. 1. 277, and note. 

181. a cold capon a fieldt and a bottle of Karch-beere. 
Poins, in / Henry IV 1. 2, says: *Jack, how agrees the 
devil and thee about thy soul, that thou soldest him on 
Good-fnday last for a cup of Madeira and a cold capon's kg ?' 

' The beer that is used at noblemen's tables in their fixed 
and standing houses is conunonly a year old, or peradven- 
ture of two years* standing or more ; but this is not general 
It is also brewed in March, and therefore is called March 
beer; but for the household, it is usually not under a month's 

age.' Harrison, A Description of England, Bk. 3, chap. 1, 


184. I did not thinke it had beene in him. ' Sometimes 
the sequence of tenses is not observed in dependent sen- 
tences.* Abbott, Shakes. Grant,, p. 269. 

186. n'e haue him Captains of the Gkdly-foist. Captains 
of galley-foists did not always meet with the esteem which 
the Citizen evidently pays them. Cf. The Scornful Lady 
1.2:' He makes no mention of such company as you would 

draw imto you, captains of galley foists, such as in a clear 

day have seen Calais ; fellows that have no more of God 
than their oaths come to.* Other contemptuous references 
may be found in Middleton and Dekker*s The Roaring Girl, 
in The Parson's Wedding (Dods.-Haz„ Old Eng. Plays, Vol 2), 
and elsewhere. 

ACT v] Notes 263 

*The gally-foist was a long barge, with many oars; com- 
posed of galley and foist. The latter being made fromfuste, 
which Cotgrave thus explains : " Fuste, f. a foist; a light 
gaily that hath about 16 or 18 oares on a side, and two 
rowers to an oare."* ^Nares, Glossary, 

The Lord Mayor's and Company's Barges were sometimes 
called The City Galleyfoists, The companies had their in- 
dividual barges for the water processions, which were a 
prominent feature of The Lord Mayor's Shows, given upon 
the day of that dignitary's installation. The accounts of the 
Grocers' Company for the year 1436 contain items of ex- 
penditure for " hiring of barges." * The City companies con- 
tinued to hire barges for state occasions two centuries after 
this period. The Grocers hired the last in 1686, when it 
was thought to be beneath the dignity of the company to 
appear in a barge which was not their own, and accordingly 
the Wardens were empowered to construct " a fair and large 
barge for the use of this Company." ' Knight, London 6. 146. 

190. Care line with Cats. Merrythought has in mind the 
familiar adage * care will kill a cat,' and is adjuring care to 
live with its proper victim; his invincible merriment defies 
its encroachments. 

201. Sing wee, and chaunt it. 'The commencement of 
the fourth song in Morley's Firste Booke of Ballets, &c., 

1600.* Dyce. Again Dyce's word must be depended upon, 

since the Firste Booke of Ballets is not for the present pur- 
pose obtainable. 

224. terlery-whiskin. This is a bit of colloquial jargon 
which was common at the time. *In The Lady's Trial by 
Ford, we have terlery-pufkins. Whiskin occ\u3 twice with 
no very determinate meaning in the same author's Fancies, 
Chaste and Nobk: Weber. 

224. the world it mnnes on wheeles. Before its publi- 
cation in 1606, Chapman's play All Fools was called The 
World runs on Wheels, The expression is proverbial. Cf. 
John Heywood, Proverbs, 1646, ed. J. Sherman, p. 184. 

284. And some they whistled, and some they song. 
*This stanza is taken from the ballad of Little Musgrave 

264 Th€ Knight of the Burning Pestle [act v 

and Lady Barnard, printed in Percy's ReUques of Ancient 
Poetry, VoL 3, Bk. 1, where it runs thus: 

Then some they whistled, and some they sang, 

And some did loudlye saye, 
Whenever lord Bamardes home it blewe, 

Awaye, Musgrave, away.' Weber. 

hi the story, the lady proves false to her lord, Barnard, 
who takes vengeance in murdering her and his rival. Little 

Chappell prints the tune of Little Musgrave aud Lady 
Barnard in Popular Music of the Olden Time 1. 170. 

240. let your owne lone remember aha is yours, mud so 
forgiue her. * " This may mean. Let your self-love tell you 
that she is a part of yourself, and so forgive her. Yet I 

think it probable that we ought to read * Let your oU lave * 

that is, your former affection." Mason. The meaning 

seems to be, ^besides the consideration that she is my 

mother, let your own love as a husband, &a' I>>'ce. 

251. a Ladies daughter of Paris properly. No. 31 in 
Vol. 1 of Evans' Old Ballads, p. 136, ed. 1810, has this heading: 
*A rare example of a virtuous maid in Paris, who was by 
her own mother procured to be put in prison, thinking 
thereby to compel her to Popery : but she continued to the 

end, and finished her life in the fire. Tune is O man in 

desperation.' The first stanza runs thus: 

It was a lady's daughter, 

Of Paris properly. 
Her mother her commanded 

To mass that she should hie: 
O pardon me, dear mother. 

Her daughter dear did say, 
Unto that filthy idol 

I never can obey. 

271. Fortune, my Foe, &c. *A black-letter copy of "A 
sweet sonnet, wherein the lover exclaimeth against Fortune 
for the loss of his lady's favour, almost past hope to get it 
again, and in the end receives a comfortable answer, and 
attains his desire, as may here appear : to the tune of For- 

ACT v] Notes 265 

tune my foe^'^ is in the Bagford Collection of Ballads (643 m., 
British Museum). It begins as follows: 

Fortune my foe, why dost thou frown on me? 
And will thy favours never better be? 
Wilt thou, I say, forever breed my pain? 
And wilt thou not restore my joys again? 

There are twenty-two stanzas, of four lines each, in the 
above; Chappell, Popular Music of the Olden Time 1. 162. 

With respect to the words of the title. The tune is, For- 
tune my foe, Chappell observed to Dyce that * nothing is 
more common in reprints of ballads than to put the name 
of the tune the same as the ballad itself; as The Carman's 
Whistle, to the tune of the Carman's Whistle, &c.' 

Chappell gives a considerable number of instances from 
old books and plays of the mention of Fortune my foe. 
Prominent among them are The Custom of the Country 1. 1, 
and Ben Jonson's The Case is Altered 4. 4. 

Chappell prints the tune of Fortune my foe. 

292. hartely. Cf. 1. 184, and note. 

308. make on him. Modem eds. read make an end on 
him. 'The two words which we have added seem abso- 
lutely necessary to the completion of the sense.' ^Ed. 1778. 

The alteration is amply justified. Dyce calls attention to 
the preceding speech of the Citizen as a support for the 
new reading. 

318. Enter Riqih* with a forked arrow through hia head. 
Apparently, this is in ridicule of a stage-direction in The 
True Tragedy of Richard, Duke of York, 1606: 'Enter 
Clifford wounded, with an arrow in his necked As Dyce 
notes, Shakespeare, when he re-wrote The True Trag- 
edy, omitted * with an arrow in his necke.' Cf. j Henry VI 
2. 6. 

We now speak of a barbed, instead of a forked, arrow. 
Cf. Dryden, Assignation 3. 1 : ' 1 am wounded with a forked 
arrow, which will not easily be got out' 

319. When I waa mortall, thia my eoatiiie corpa. Many 
verses of the speech beginning here are a direct parody on 
the speech of Andrea's ghost, with which Kyd's Spanish Trag- 

266 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [actv 

edy opens. Cf. Introd., p. CI. The next three verses of the 
speech are elsewhere parodied in our play (cf. 4. 443). 

321. Where aittiiig I espi'd a loaely Dame. Anodier par- 
ody on The Spanish Tragedy. Cf. Introd., p. CL 

322. wrought with Lingell and with AIL Lingel is now 
dialectal (cf. A^. E, D), It applies to the thread or hemp 
rubbed with rosin, which is used by shoemakers and cob- 
blers. Cf. IVonten Phased 4. 1 : 

Every man shall have a care of his own sole, 
And in his pocket carry his two confessors. 
His Ungel and his nawt[i. e. awl]. 

333. the blacks thum'd maide. It should be remembered 
that Susan is a cobbler's maid ; evidently she is not espe- 
cially skilled in her master's craft 

340. With skarfee and Rings, and Poeeie in my hand. We 
have already had mention of the scarfe and rings worn at 
the May-games. Cf. 4. 421, and note. 

Eds. 1750 and 1770 read pasie, Dy., posy. Weber saj-s: 
' There is no occasion to vary the orthographie. Poesy is 
continually used in the same sense as posy in old plays; 
but in the present case, it refers to the rtiymes which Ralph 
reads at the conclusion of the fourth act, standing as May- 
lord on the conduit' * A very doubtful explanation.' ^D>ce. 

Because of its conjimction here with Rings, Poesie, it seems 
to me, most probably refers to the mottoes or sentimental 
conceits, known as poesies or posies, which were engraved 
upon rings or other trinkets. 

' Nay, and I have poesies for rings too, and riddles diat 
they dream not of.' ^Ben Jonson, Cynikicts Revels 2. 1. 

A hoope of Gold, a paltry Ring 
That she did give me, whose Poeste was 
For all the world like Cutlers Poetry 
Upon a knife; Love me and leave me not 

Merchant of Venice, 6 (Folio 1623). 

342. Gitty Captains at Mile-end. That is, Captain of the 
City train bands. Cf. Cowper, John Gilpin: 

John Gilpin was a citizen 
Of credit and renown, 

ACT v] Notes 267 

A train-band captain eke was he 
Of famous London town. 

343. leading staife. Cent, Diet, quotes our passage to illus- 
trate the rare employment of this term to indicate the baton or 
staff borne by a field-marshal or other commanding officer. 

Cf. Ford, Perkin Warbeck 3. 1, stage- direction : * Enter 
King Henrie, his Gorget on, his sword, plume of feathers, 
and leading staffe' 

349. death came vnto my Stall To cheapen A4|iia-Titae. 
Grocers dealt in drugs and spirits as well as the regular 
commodities. To cheapen here means to ask the price of, 
Cf. Glossary. Death is an interested inquirer about the cost 
of * the water of life.' 

352. Death caught a pound of Pepper in his hand. This 
unique medium of Ralph's decease is peculiarly laughable 
because of the importance of pepper among the commodities 
of old-time grocers. Cf. 1. 328, and note. 

356. Then tooke I yp my Bow and Shaft in hand* The 
practice of archery was encouraged at this time almost as 
much as the artillery drills. Under the immediate prede- 
cessors of the Tudors, archery had rather fallen into decay. 
It was revived, however, by Henry VIII, under whom a 
number of acts were made for promoting the practice of 
shooting both with the longbow and the shortbow. Ralph 
has a longbow, for the shaft was a sort of arrow which 
was used only with that implement Henry VIII established 
masters and rulers of the " science," who formed a perpetual 
corporation called the Fraternity of StGeorge. ' The members 
of this society were also permitted, for pastime sake, to 
practise shooting at all sorts of marks and butts, and at the 
game of the popinjay, and all other games, as at fowls and 
the like, in the city and suburbs of London, as well as in any 

other convenient places.' Stnitt, Sports and Pastimes, p. 57. 

The popular enthusiasm for archer>' thus created was very 
active under the monarchs succeeding Henry VIIL James I 
opened tq> a number of locations adjoining London for the 
practice of archer>', and granted a commission in which were 
re-established the statutes, ordinances, proclamations, &c. 

268 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [actt 

that had been previously made at different times in &vor 
of archery. One of the chief resorts for the archers was 
Finsbury Fields, which Moorfields adjoined. Master Stephen 
speaks contemptuously of the archers of Finsbury, Every 
Man in His Humour 1. 1. 

357. walktintoHoore-fieldB. 'Moor-fields, a moor or fen 
without the walls of the City to the north, first drained in 
1527; laid out into walks for the first time in 1606, and 
first built upon late in the reign of Charles IL The name 
has been swallowed up in Finsbury (or Fensbury) Square, 
Finsbury Circus, the City Road, and the adjoining localities. 
. . . This low-lying district became famous for its musten 
and pleasant walks.* Wh.-C. There is a black-letter chap- 
book entitled The Pleasant Walkes of Moore-fields, written 
by Richard Johnson soon after the improvements made in 
1606. Moorfields lay between the City and Hogsdon, the 
pleasure garden mentioned at 4. 480, and near Finsboiy 
Fields, which, together with Mile-End, were used as a prac- 
tising groimd for archers and the artillery. 

361. My fellowee enery one of forked heads. A punning 
allusion to the homed heads of the citizens. Cf. 4. 473, and 
note. Conjugal infidelity is thus referred to in Othello 3. 3 : 
O curse of marriage ! 

Tis destiny, unshunnable like death. 

Even then, this forked plague is fated to us, 

When we do quicken. 

363. Shroue-taesday. Shrovetide, as the word signifies, 
was originally a time for confessing sins, but it became, also, 
a period of unusual sport and feasting, notably die custom 
of eating pancakes. Shrove Tuesday was esteemed the ap- 
prentices' especial holiday, and of the many licenses which 
they took, the chief was that of assailing houses of ill-fame, 
and carting the inmates about the streets. In the ballad 
entitled Poor Robin, ilQl, are these lines: 

February welcome, though still cold and bitter, 
Thou bringest Valentine, Pan cake, and Fritter; 
But formerly most dreadfiii were the knocks 
Of Prentices 'gainst Whore-houses and Cocks. 

ACT v] Notes 269 

Sir Thomas Overbury, in his Characters, speaking of * a 
Maquerela, in plaine English, a bawde/ says, * Nothing daunts 
her so much as the approach of Shrove Tuesday' We read 
in the Masque of the Inner Temple : 

Stand forth Shrove Tuesday, one of the silencest Bricklayers, 
'Tis in your charge to pidl down bawdy-houses. 

C£ Brand, Pop. Antiq. 1. 89, and Dekker, 2 Honest Whore. 
368. Set yp a stake. Ralph probably refers to the stake 
to which cocks were tied as targets to be thrown at in the 
contests on Shrove Tuesday. Brand cites the following sa- 
tirical doggerel from an obscure poem written in 1679: 

Cocke a doodle doe, 'tis the bravest game, 
Take a cock from his dame. 
And bind him to a stake. 

Oh the beares and the bulls 

Are but corpulent gulls 

To the valiant Shrove-tide martyr. Pop, Antiq A, 1%, 

369. Grocers Hall. A likely haven for the soul of a grocer's 
apprentice, for it was the grand place of assemblage in all 
the deliberations or the festivities of the grocers* guild. * The 
first Hall of the Grocers of which we have an account was 
built in 1427, before which they had met at the house of 
the Abbot of Bury in St Mary Ave . . . and other places. 
In 1411 they bought the chapel of St Edmund of Lord 
Fitz- Walter, and a few years after his adjacent house and 
gardens, and conunenced building their hall. The second 
hall was built some years after the great Fire; and their 
third, the present edifice (Thomas Leverton, architect), was 

commenced in 1798, and opened July 21, 1802.* Wh.-C. 

2. 168. The location of the building is Grocers* Hall Court, 
Poultry and Princes Street 

374. depart * i. e. part (as in our old marriage-service, 

«* till death us depart **> So the first 4to. Other eds. " part *' ; 

and so the modem editors, Weber excepted.' Dyce. This 

meaning of the verb is now obsolete. Of its intransitive 
use, A^. E. D, gives the following examples : * Aden nou ; be 

270 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [tit. 

treu nou, Sen that we must depairt' Montgomerie, Pdems, 

1606. *So loth wee were to depart asunder.' Hindc, 

y. Bruen, 1641, p. 133. 

392. then so. A phrase meanmg than that, formerly m 
common use. Nares gives the following examples: * Faith 
I thought as much, but such a one taught me more wit 
then so seaven yeares agoe.* Copley's Wits, Fits and Fan- 
cies, 1614. 

Hear, Foh, foh ! she hath let fly. 

Poll, Doe y' think / have no more manners than so ? — 
Cartwright's Ordinary, 1661. 

393. I thanke you all Qentlemen. Again the Wife is 
aware of the gallants' unusual coiutesy in countenancing a 
grocer's prentice boy. Cf. 3. 603, and note. 

396. I would haue a pottle of wine and a pipe of To- 
bacco for yon. Ralph's favorable reception has assuredly 
caused a change of front in the Wife's attitude toward the 
smokmg of tobacco, for cf. 1. 224-28. 

400. and whilst. And was formerly used emphatically 
for * even,' * and that too.' * We still use " and that " to give 
emphasis and call attention to an additional circumstance, 
e. g. " He was condemned, and that imheard." . . . The " that " 
is logically unnecessary, and is omitted sometimes by Shake- 
speare. . . . 

" And shall the figure of God's majesty 

Be judged by subject and inferior breath, 

Andhe himself not present ? " Richard 1I,1V. 1.129.' 

Abbott, Shakes, Gram, p. 70. The elhpsis in the last verse 
of this extract might be thus supplied : * And whilst he him- 
self is not present.' 

Title-Page of Qj. 

(Francis Beaumont, | 
and [ Gent. 

lohn Fletcher. I 

This ascription of the play to a double authorship seems 
contradicted by the statement regarding the author in the 

TIT.] Notes 271 

Address to the Readers, and to be made of doubtful reli- 
ability by the equivocal word authors in the Prologue. A 
consideration of the authorship may be found in the Introd., 
pp. XXI-XXXI. 

As it is now acted. There is no evidence that our 
play, after its first presentation in 1610, was revived before 
this year, 1636. Cf. Introd., p. XVL 

her Majesties Servants. The organization from which 
this company of actors descended was formed under Alex- 
ander Foster in 1611, when it entered into a bond with 
Henslow, probably to act at the Swan. In March, 1613, 
Henslow*s company and Rossiter's (the 2 Revels) amalga- 
mated, and were then called the Lady Elizabeth's Men. They 
bore this title until the accession of Charles I, 1625, when 
they passed over to Queen Henrietta and became known 
as Her Majesty's Servants. Nathan Field, who was also a 
member of the Queen's Revels, acted with this company. 
In Jan. and Feb., 1612-13, Beaumont and Fletcher's The 
Coxcomb was presented by it ; in March, 1613, The 
Honest Man's Fortune; in succeeding years The Night- 
walker, Wit without Money and Nice Valour, In Malone's 
Shakespeare (in Boswell 3. 238), is printed this entry from 
Sir Henry Herbert's MSS., 1636: *The 28 Feb. The Knight 
of the Burning Pestle played by the Q. men at St James.' 
For details regarding Her Majesty's Servants, cf. Fleay, 
Hist, of the Stage, pp. 186, 204, 263, 312, 321, &c. 

the Private house in Dmry lane. This playhouse should 
not be confused with the famous Drury Lane Theatre of 
our own time. The latter was opened in Catherine Street, 
1663. The 'Private house in Drury lane ' stood in the parish 
of St. Giles-in-the-Fields, and was generally known as The 
Cockpit, from the building which had originally occupied 
this site, and had served as a place for the exhibition of 
cock-fighting. The exact date of its erection is not ascer- 
tainable. ' The Cockpit Theatre was certainly not converted 
into a playhouse until after James I had been some time on 
the throne. . . . Camden, in his Annals of fames /, speaking 
of the attack upon it in March, 1616-17, says that the Cock- 

272 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [m. 

pit Theatre w^ then nuper erectum, by which we are to 
understand, perhaps, that it had been lately converted into 
a playhouse. Howes, in his continuation of Stowe, adverting 
to the same event, calls it " a new playhouse," as if it had 

then been recently built from the foimdation." Collier, 

Annals of the Stage 3. 328. The attack to the which Collier 
alludes was made by a mob of apprentices on Shrove Tues- 
day, March 4, 1616-17. 

The Cockpit was occupied continuously by Lady EHzabetk's 
Men from 1616—17 until the end of James ' reign. After 
June 24, 1625, Her Majesty's Servants acted there under 
the management of Christopher BeestoiL In 1637 these 
players were transferred to Salisbury Court to make place 
at The Cockpit for a new company known as Beeston's Boys, 
Cf. Fleay, Hist, of the Stage, pp. 299, 321, 359. 

* On Saturday, March 24, 1640, the house was pulled down 
by a company of soldiers, " set on by the sectaries of those 

sad times." ' Wh.^:. 

Qupd si, kc, Cf. these lines on title-page of the text 
and the note regarding them. 

Address to the Readers, Q,, 

the French Eickshoes. The modem spelling is kickshaws, 
E^. 1778 reads quelque chose, Cf. variants. *The original 
Fr. spelling was frequent in the 17th century, but the com- 
monest forms follow the pronunciation que'que chose, formerly 
regarded as elegant, and still ciurent in colloquial French. 
The word was sometimes correctly taken as sing., witb 
plural choses, &c. ; more commonly it was treated as a pL 

and a sing, kickshaw afterwards formed from it* N,E.D, 

The term French kickshoes as employed here had a con- 
temptuous force. Cf. Glossary. Cf. Addison, Toiler, No. 148: 
'That substantial English Dish banished is so ignominious 
a Manner, to make Way for French Kickshaws^ 

the Author. An evidence of single authorship. 

PBOL.] Notes 273 

Prologue of Q,. 

THE PBOLOGYE. This Prologue is almost an exact 
transcript of *The Prologue at the Black fryers' prefixed 
to Lyly's Sapho and Phao. There are a few trivial alter- 
ations of the text, the addition of a few words, (viz.: or 
mistaking the Authors intention, who never aymed at any 
one particular in this Play, and the concluding sentence, 
And thus I leave it, and thee to thine owne censure, to like, or 
dislike,), and the omission of Lyly's last sentence, which 
is as follows: *The Gryffon never spreadeth her wings in 
the sunne, when she hath any sick feathers: yet have we 
ventured to present our exercises before your iudgements, 
when we know them full of weak matter, yielding rather 
our selves to the curtesie, which we have ever found, then 
to the preciseness, which wee ought to feare.* Sapho and 
Phao was first printed in 1684. It was republished in 1691 ; 
and in 1632 it was included, in a third edition, with five of 
Lyly's other plays, in a collection called the Sixe Court Com- 
edies. Dyce corrects Weber's erroneous statement that the 
play had been presented at court in 1633. 

where the Beare cannot finde Origaniun to heale hia 
griefs, hee blasteth all other leaves with hia breath. Cf. 
Pliny, Natural History, Bk. 9, chap. 116 (Bostock and Riley's 
trans.) : * The breath of the lion is fetid, and that of the 
bear quite pestilential ; indeed, no beast will touch anything 
with which its breath has come in contact, and substances 
which it has breathed upon will become putrid sooner than 

R. W. Bond, ed. The Complete Works of John Lyly, 1902, 
notes that the passage is a reminiscence of Euphues 1. 208, 
U. 20-6 : * The filthy sow when she is sicke, eateth the Sea 
Crabbe and is immediately recured: the Torteyse having 
tasted the Viper, sucketh Origanum and is quickly revived : 
the Beare readye to pine, lycketh vpp the Ants and is re- 
covered,' &c. Lyly adopted these ideas direray from Pliny, 
Bk. 8, chap. 41. ' Cuvier remarks upon this and the follow- 
ing Chapter, that they are entirely fabulous. The diseases, 


274 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [feol. 

remedies, and instructioiis given by the animalg are equally 
imaginary, although the author has taken the whole from 
authors of credit' ^Bostock and Riley. 

to breed (if it might be) soft smiling, not loud laud- 
ing. ' Noticeable as an acknowledgement, made to a popular 
audience, of a purpose sufficiently apparent in the plays 
themselves, of weaning popular taste from coarse farce and 
rough-and-tumble clownage to appreciate a more refined 
style of Comedy. We may compare the effort at tragic 
dignity announced by Marlowe in the Prologue to T^mUmr- 
hdne' Bond. 

They were banished the Theatre of Atheoji, ft& 'Prob- 
ably amplified from Horace's brief account of the suppres- 
sion of the license of 'vetus comoedia' at Athens {An 
Poetica, 281 sqq.), and the preceding uncomplimentary ref- 
erence to the wit of Plautus, L 270.' Bond. The lines 

in Horace are thus translated by Howes (Art of Poetry, ed. 
Cook, p. 20) : 

Our forefathers, good-natured, easy folks. 
Extolled the nuim)ers and enjoyed the jokes 
Of Plautus, prompt both these and those to hear. 
With tolerant not to say with tasteless ear. 

The accoimt of the 'vetus comoedia' is rendered as follows: 

The Antique Comedy was next begun. 
Nor light applause her frolic freedom won; 
But, into slanderous outrage waxing £sist. 
Called for the curb of law; that law was passed; 
And thus, its right of wronging quickly o'er, 
Her Chorus sank abashed, to rise no more. 

the Authors intention. This throws no light on the 
question of joint composition, since Authors may be either 
the plural or the possessive of the singular. Cf. variants. 

The Speakers' Names. 

The Speakers Names. Dyce's additions to this list, to- 
gether with his corrections of inaccuracies, should be noted 
C£ variants. 


Abbott, E. A. A Shakesperian Grammar. London, 1891. 
Arbkr, Edward, ed. A Transcript of the Registers of the 

Company of Stationers of London: 1664-1640. 6 vols. 

London, 1876-d4. 
AscHAM, Robert. The Schoolmaster, 1670. Arber's Reprints. 

London, 1870. 
Bates, K. L., and Gk)DFREY, L. B. English Drama. A Work- 
ing Basis. Wellesley College, 1896. 
Beaumont, Francis, and Fletcher, John. Works, ed. A. Dyce. 

11 vols. London, 1843—6. ^or other editions, c£ In- 
troduction, pp. I— XI). 
Bbsant, Walter. London. London, 1892. 
Boyle, R. Beaumont, Fletcher, and Massinger. Englische 

Studien, Vols. 6-8. 1882-6. 
Beamnont and Fletcher's Knight of the Burning 

Pestle. Englische Studien, Vol. 12. 1889. 
Brand, John. Popular Antiquities of Great Britain. 8 vols. 

London, 1849. 
Brome, Richard. Dramatic Works. London, 1873. 
Century Dictionary. 
Cervantes, Miquel de. Don Quixote, tr. Th. Shelton, 1612. 

3 vols. London, 1900. 
Chabibers, E. K. The Mediaeval Stage. 2 vols. Oxford, 1903. 
Chambers, Robert. The Book of Days. 2 vols. Edinburgh, 

Chapman, George. Works, ed. R. H. Shepherd. London, 1874. 
Chappell, Wn-LiAM. Popular Music of the Olden Time. 2 vols. 

London, 1869. 
Chhj), F.J. English and Scottish Popular Ballads. 6 vols. 

Cambridge, 1883-94. 
Collier, J. P. The History of English Dramatic Poetry to 

the time of Shakespeare : and the Annals of the Stage to 

the Restoration. 3 vols. London, 1831. 
Pimch and Judy. London, 1873. 


276 The Knight of the Burning Pestle 

Creighton, Charles. History of Epidemics in Britain. 2 vols. 
Cambridge, 1891-4. 

Day, John. Works. Now first collected, with an Introduction 
and Notes, by A. H. Bullen. London, 1881. 

Dekker, Thomas. Dramatic Works, ed. John Pearson. 4 vok 
London, 1873. 

Non-dramatic Works, ed. A. B. Grossart 5 vols. 

Huth Library. London, 1884-6. 

Dering, Edward. A Briefe and Necessar>' Catechism or In- 
struction. London, 1614. 

Dictionary of National Biography. 

EtoDSLEY, Robert. A Select Collection of Old English Plays, 
1744. Ed. W. Carew Hazlitt 15 vols. London, 1874-6. 

EtoucE, Franos. Illustrations of Shakspeare. London, 1839. 

Drake, Nathan. Shakespere and his Times. Paris, 1838. 

Dryden, John. Essays, ed. W. P. Ker. Oxford, 1900. 

Earle, John. Microcosmography. Cf. Morley. 

Entick, John. A New and Accurate History and Survey of 
London, Westminster, Southwark, and Places adjacent 
4 vols. London, 1766. 

Evans, Thomas. Old Ballads, Historical and Narrative. 4 vols. 
London, 1810. 

Fairholt, F. W. Costume in England. London, 1846. 

Tobacco : its History and Associations. London, 1859. 

FrrzMAURiCE-KELLY, James. Spanish Literature. New York, 

Fleay, F. G. On Metrical Tests as Applied to Dramatic 
Poetry. Part n. Fletcher, Beaumont, Massinger. Trans- 
actions of the New Shakspere Society. London, 1874 

A Chronicle History- of the London Stage. Lon- 
don, 1890. 

A Biographical Chronicle of the English Drama. 

2 vols. London, 1891. 

Furness, H. H. a New Variorum Edition of Shakespeare. 

Gay, John. Poetical Works. 2 vols. Boston, 1854. 

Gayton, Edmund. Pleasant (running title : Festivous) Notes 
upon Don Quixote. London, 1654. 

Genest, J. Some Account of the English Stage. 10 vols. 
Bath, 1832. 

GossoN, Stephen. Plays Confuted in Five Actions. Cf. Hazlitt, 
The English Drama and Stage. London, 1867. 

The School of Abuse. Arber's Reprints. London, 1868. 

Bibliography 277 

Greenstreet, James. The Whitefriars Theatre in the Time of 
Shakspere. Transactions of the New Shakspere Society. 

Grose, Franqs. Military Antiquities Respecting a History 
of the English Army. 2 vols. London, 1801. 

, and others. The Antiquarian Repertory. 4 vols. 

London, 1807. 

Grove, Sir George, ed. A Dictionary of Music and Mu- 
sicians. 4 vols. London and New York, 1879—89. 

Haluwell, J. O. A Dictionary of Archaic and Provincial 
Words. 2 vols. London, 1847. 

Harrison, William. Description of England in Shakspere*s 
Youth, ed. F. J. FumivaU, from the edd. of Holinshed's 
Chronicle 1677 and 1687. London, 1877-8. 

Hatcher, O. L. John Fletcher. A Study in Dramatic Meth- 
od. Chicago, 1906. 

Hazutt, W, C, ed. The English Drama and Stage under 
the Tudor and Stuart Princes. Roxburghe Library. Lon- 
don, 1869. 

The Livery Companies of the City of London. 

New York, 1892. 

Heath, J. B. Some Accoimt of the Worshipful Company 
of the Grocers of the City of London. London, 1864. 

Hentzner, Paul. A Journey into England in the year 1698. 
Augervylle Society Reprints, 1881. 

Herbert, Wh-uam. The History of the Twelve Great Livery 
Companies of London. 2 vols. London, 1837. 

Heywood, Thomas. Dramatic Works. 6 vols. London, 1874. 

Holinshed, Raphael, and others. Chronicle History of Eng- 
land, Scotland, and Ireland. 6 vols. London, 1807-8. 

JoNSON, Ben. Works, ed. W. Gifford and F. Cimnigham. 
9 vols. London, 1876. 

Alchemist, ed. C. M. Hathaway. New York, 1903. 

Bartholomew Fair, ed. C. S. Alden. New York, 


Devil is an Ass, ed. W. S. Johnson. New York, 1906. 

Epicoene or The Silent Woman, ed. A. Henry. 

New York, 1906. 

— Every Man in his Humour, ed. H. B. Wheatley. 

London, 1877. 

Poetaster, ed. H. S. Mallory. New York, 1906. 

Staple of News, ed. D. Winter. New York, 1906. 

278 The Knight of the Burning Pestle 

JussBRAND, J. J. The English Novel in the Time of Shakes- 
peare. London, 1890. 

Knight, Charles. London. 3 vols. London, 1851. 

KOppel, Emo^ Quellen-Studien zu den Dramen Ben Jodsods* 
J. Marstons, und Beaumonts und Fletchers. Eriangen 
u. Leipzig, 1895. 

Kyd, T&omas. Works, ed. F. S. Boas. Oxford, 1901. 

Laneham, Robert. Letter, ed. F. J. FumivalL London, 1890. 

Langbaine, Gerard. An Account of the English Dramatic 
Poets. Oxford, 1691. 

Larwood, J., and Hotten, J. C. History of Signboards. 
London, 1867. 

Lee, SmNEY. A New Life of William Shakespeare. Lon- 
don, 1899. 

Leonhart, Dr. Cber Beaumont und Fletcher's Knight of 
the Burning Pestle. Annabeig, 1885. 

LoBEiRA, JoAs. Amadis of Gaul, tr. Robert Southey. 3 vols. 
London, 1872. 

LovELL, Robert. A Compleat History of Animals and Ifin- 
erals. Oxford, 1661. 

Lyly, John. Complete Works, ed. R. W. Bond. 8 vols. 
Clarendon Press, 1902. 

Macaulay, G. C. Francis Beaumont A Critical Study. 
London, 1888. 

Magnin, C. Histoire des Marionnettes en Europe dqxiis 
TAntiquite jusqu'a nos Jours. Paris, 1862. 

Maitland, WnxiAM. History and Survey of London. 2 vols. 
London, 1756. 

Malone, Edmond. The Plays and Poems of William Shakes- 
peare. 21 vols. London, 1821. 

Marston, John. Works, ed. A. H. Bullen. 3 vols. London, 

Mason, J. M. Comments on the Plays of Beaumont and 
Fletcher. London, 1798. 

MmDLETON, Thomas. Works, ed. A. H. Bullen. 8 vols. 
Boston, 1885. 

MttforDjJ. Cursory Notes on Beaumont and Fletcher. Lon- 
don, 1856. 

MoRAES, Francisco de. Palmerin of England, tr. Robert 
Southey. 4 vols. London, 1807. 

MoRLEY, Henry, ed. Burlesque Plays and Poems. New York, 

Bibliography 279 

MoRLEY, Henry, ed. Character Writing in the Seventeenth 
Century. London, 1891. 

MoRTE Darthur, ed. Sir E. Strachey. London, 1868. 

Nares, Robert. A Glossary. New Edition by Halliwell and 
Wright London, 1869. 

Nashe, Thobias. Works, ed. A. B. Grosart 6 vols. Huth 
Library. London, 1883-6. 

N. R D. New English Dictionary. 

Nichols, John. Progresses of King James the First. Lon- 
don, 1897. 

Norton, George. Commentaries on the History, Constitution, 
and Chartered Franchises of the City of London. Lon- 
don, 1869. 

Notes and Queries. 

OuPHANT, E. F. The Works of Beaumont and Fletcher. 
Englische Studien, Vol. 14. 1890. 

Ortunez, Diego, Sierra, Pedro de la, and I^Iartinez, BIaroos. 
Espeio de Caballerias. French version under the title of 
L'Admirable Historic du Chevalier du SoleiL 8 vols. 
Paris, 1648. 

OvERBURY, Sir Thomas. Characters. Cf. Morley. 

Palmerin D'Oliva, tr. Anthony Munday. 1688-97. 

Peele, George. Dramatic and Poetical Works, ed. A. Dyce. 
London, 1888. 

Percy, Thomas. Reliques of Ancient English Poetry. 8 vols. 
Edinburgh, 1868. 

Plancha, J. R. A Cyclopaedia of Costume or Dictionary of 
Dress. 2 vols. London, 1876. 

Puny. Natural History, tr. Bostwick & Riley. 6 vols. 
Bohn's Library. London, 1866. 

Potter, A. C. A Bibliography of Beaumont and Fletcher. 
Cambridge, Mass., 1890. 

PuTTENHAM, George. The Art of English Poesie, 1689. 
Arber's Reprints. London, 1869. 

Purser, W. E. Palmerin of England. Dublin and London, 1904. 

Rakes, G. A. The History of the Honourable Artillery Com- 
pany. 2. vols. London, 1878. 
RrrsoN, J. Ancient Songs and Ballads. 2 vols. London, 1829. 
Shakespeare, William. Works, ed. A. Dyce. 9 vols. Lon- 
don, 1876. 
Shirley, Jabces. Dramatic Works and Poems, ed. W. Gif- 
ford and A. Dyce. 6 vols. London, 1833. 

28o The Knight of the Burning Pestle 

Sidney, Sir Pmup. The Defense of Poesy, ed. A. S. Cook. 

Boston, 1901. 
Stow, John. A Survey of London, ed. W. J. Thorns. Lon- 
don, 1842. 
Strutt, Joseph. A Complete View of the Dress and Habits 

of the People of England. 2 vols. London, 1796-9. 
Sports and Pastimes of the People of England. 

London, 1903. 
Stubbes, Phillip. The Anatomie of Abuses in England, ed. 

F.J. Fumivall. London, 1877-9. 
Thornbury, G. W. Shakespere's England. 2 vols. London, 

Thorndike, a. H. Influence of Beaumont and Fletcher on 

Shakspere. Worcester, Mass., 1901. 
Thorne, James. Handbook to the Environs of London. 2 

vols. London, 1876. 
Underhill, J. G. Spanish Literature in the England of the 

Tudors. New York, 1899. 
Vasconcellos, C. M. de, and Braga, J. Geschichte der Portu- 

giesischen Litteratur. Grundriss der Romanischen Philo- 

logie, Vol. 2. 1897. 
Ward, A. W. History of English Dramatic Literature to 

the Death of Queen Anne. 3 vols. London, 1899. 
Warren, F. M. A History of the Novel Previous to the 

Seventeenth Century. New York, 1895. 
Wheatlev, H. B., and Cunningham, P. London Past and 

Present. 3 vols. London, 1891. 
Wright, Thomas. Dictionary of Obsolete and Provincial 

English. London, 1857. 


This Glossary is designed to include all words which are 
obsolete, archaic or dialectal ; all current words used in senses 
which are obsolete, archaic, dialectal or rare ; so far as prac- 
ticable, all phrases which are obsolete, archaic, or otherwise 
peculiar ; all obsolete or archaic forms which are not merely 
old spellings ; and words which, though current in the senses 
defined, are obscure from a difficult context or from their 
occurrence in the play in diflferent senses. Every definition 
is accompanied by at least one citation. In all cases of pos- 
sible confiision, the citations are complete. 

The New English Dictionary and the Century Dictionary 
have been my principal authorities. The Standard Dictionary, 
Nares* Glossary, Halliweirs Dictionary of Archaic and Pro- 
vincial Words, and Wright's Dictionary of Obsolete and Pro- 
vincial English have often been useful. 

A dagger before a word or definition indicates that the 
word or the particular meaning involved is obsolete. An 
interrogation point after a word or definition indicates un- 
certainty with regard to it. Other abbreviations are in com- 
mon use in dictionaries. The citations are by act and line of 
the text of this edition. 

A, prep. fl. In, denoting capacity : 

in any one's name. Phr., a God's 

name. I. 71 ; 2. III. 

f 2. Worn down from of. i. 228 ; 

2. 101, 269, 559; 3. 144. Phr., 

a cloche = o'clock, i. 403 ; 4. 


t3. On. I. 404, 485 ; 2. 40, 267, 

514; 3. 146; 4. 7. 
fA, pron. He. I. 222 ; 2. 41, 268, 

280 ; 3. 141, 144, 622 ; 4. 6, 266, 

412, 415. 

Able, a. fi. Strong, capable of 
endurance. 3. 22. 

About, prep. Because of; on ac- 
count of. I. 274; 4. 170. 

fFalse representation. 

f To misrepresent. Ind. 

Abuse, n. 

Ind. 18. 
Abuse, V. 

Aby, V. To pay the penalty for 

(an offence). Arch. 3. 365. 
Accept of, phr. To receive with 

favor or approval. Ind. 83. 


The Knight of the Burning Pestle 

Add, V. fTo put into the posses- 
sion of; to give or grant addition- 
ally, as to a person. I. 6. 

Admirable, a. fWonderfiil, mar- 
velous. Ind. 38. 

Afeard, fpL a, (From obs, v. afetn^,) 
Afraid. Now coUoq. or vulgar, 

3. 461. 

Aftoord, V. fi. To manage to sell 
(at sudi a price), i. 177. 
2. To supply or yield. 3. 240. 

Againe, adv. In response; in re- 
ply; in return. Obs, or arch, 
Ind. 78; 1. 119, 179; 4. 207. 

Against, prep, fShortly before; 
in view of the near approach of. 

4. 181. 

Ain, pran, Obs, form of 'em = 
them, I. 66 ; 4. 390. 

Amend, v. fAbsol. To make 
amends for (an offence). 3. 512. 

An, conj, (Weakened from and ss 
if) fl. As if ? 2. 179. Ct note. 
2. If. Arch, or dioL 3. 58 1. 

An, conf, (ra And if). An inten- 
sive of if. Arch, or dioL 2. 524. 

Anaili adv, Obs, form of anon, 
fStiaightway, at once, instantly. 
2. S76. 

Ancient, n. Arch, t, A standard- 
bearer. 5. 103. 
2. A standard? 5. 105. 

And, con/. I. If. Arch, or dial, i, 72, 
490 ; 2.44. 147. 149. 219. 267, 309. 
t2. Even ; and that too. 5. 400. 

Anew, adv. f Freshly; as a nov- 
elty ; with some implication of 
fickleness ? 3. 48. Cf. note. 

Anon, interf. f A response by a 
servant, &c, called : * Immediately I 
presently I coming 1 ' ; whence ex- 
tended to an expression of atten- 
tion, *At your service 1 awaiting 
your orders I * N.E.D. i. 298. 

Answerable, a. Correspondent ; 
commensurate. Arch. 3. 299. 

An't, phr. Contraction of an it = if 
it. Arch, or dial. 2, 429 ; 5. I20 
(and), 13s. 

Apparell, n, i. Clothing generally, 
raiment, dress. Arch. To the 

f 2. concr. Qothing provided for 

a specific purpose. Ind. 96. 
Aqua-vitae, n. Anient spiriti in 

any form. 5. 350. 
Amdng, vbL n, f concr. Heraldic 

arms ; hence, ' arming-pestle.* t. 

Ae, adv, f Demons, adv. with thtt 

in the relative clanse : to sack a 

degree; so. Ind. 77. 
Ae, cof^'. As if; as though. Ardk. 

2, 269. 

Ae you were, phr, fmilit. Retnn 
to your former positions I 5. i$2. 
Cf. note. 

Aaenred, ^L a. Covcsaaled; 
pledged. Obs. or arc/L Ded. 

Ater-loue, it. (Biisprint of ^kr- 
love) Subsequent love. 3. 72. 

Away, adv, Straightw&y, at once, 
'right away.* Chieflj coUof, ia 
imperative sentences. 4. 432. 

Badge, n, f A disttnctiTe device 
or emblem used to identify a 
knight or disHngnish his foUowcti. 

3. 246. 

Bang, V, To beat violently, or 
knock about; to thrash or dnh. 
2. 265 ; 3. 366. 

Barbarian, a, fOf or bdonginf 
to Barbary. i. 209. 

Barbor, n, Obs, form for barber. 

3- 237. 353. 
Bargaine, n, A transaction that 

entails consequences, espectally on- 

pleasant ones; a bad or unforts- 

nate * business.' Arch, or obs. 

A bargaine, ellip. for phr., with 

a bargaine, 4. 362. 
Baeon, it. Obs, form of basin, y 

263, et passim, Cf. note. 
Baste, V. To beat soundly, thrash, 

cudgel. 2. 454. 
Bate, V, fTo lower in amount, 

deduct 3. 176. 
fBattle-ray, n. Now battle-array. 

Order of troops arranged for battle. 

Baudy, a. Obs. form of bawdy. 

Lewd, obscene. 4. 34. 
Be, V. 3'd pers. pi. pres. indie of 



the verb to be = are. Arch, and 
dial. 2. 118; 3. 121. 

Be bold, pAr. To be (so) bold : 
to ventare to fkr as, take the 
liberty, (to do something). Ind. 
126 ; 2. 428. 

fBaaie oi^ pAr. To resist and 
cause (a stroke) to rebound ; to 
repel, to ward off. 3.375. Cf.note. 

Beaten, /^/. a. Hammered into 
thin foil or leaf of embroidered 
design. 4. 50, 60. 

Beate ap, pAr. mikt. To summon 
or call together as by a beat of 
the drum. 5. 102. Cf. note. 

Bed-fSBllow, n. f A wife. 3. 576. 

Before hazul, adv. Phr., to have 
(something) before hand: to have 
more than sufficient for present 
demands. Arch. 2. 480. 

Begot, pp. Obs. pp. ofbegtt. Ded. 

Beholding, ppL a. fUnder obli- 
gation, obliged, indebted. 3. 194 ; 
4. 126, 218. 

Bmi, V. Obs. form of been^ from the 
verb to be. i. 116. 

Beray, v. Obs. or arch. To befoul 
with ordure. 2. 245 ; reft. 5. 345. 

Beehrew me, phr. Arch. Used 
with the force of such imprecatory 
expressions as * Evil be&ll me,' 

* Mischief take me,* &c. Ind. 66, 
et passim. 

Becide, prep. fAway from, off. 

1. 491. 

Besides, prep. fOff. i. 242, 244. 
Bespeake, v. To arrange for ; to 

* order.* I. 333. 

fBeaell, v. To plunder, spoil ; to 

make way with. i. 353. 
Bi', prep. Obs. form of by. 2. 94. 
Bixd, n. A term of endearment. 

2. 149. 

Birdingpeeoe, n. A gun for shoot- 
ing birds, a fowling piece. 2. 84. 

Bite, V. fTo deceive, overreach. 
Now only colloq.^ and in the paS' 
sive. 4. 343. 

Blame, v. fTo rebuke, to visit with 
reproof. Prol. 

Blaae, v. To shine resplendently. 
3- 247. 

I Blazing, ppl. a. t(Heraldry) Des- 
cribing heraldically ; blazoning. 

3. 246 ; biasing {obs. form) 3. 453. 
Blesse, v. fTo protect, save (from). 

2. 274 ; 3. 468, 548 ; 5. 7. 
Bloud,9i. Obs. form of blood. 1.22. 
Body, n. Applied symbolically to 

the bread in the sacrament of the 

Lord's supper, f Used in the oath 

by God's body. 2. 250. 
Bold, a. Ind. 126 ; 2. 428. Cf. 

Be bold. 
Boldness, n. Presumption. 4. 329. 
Bonny, a. A general epithet of 

eulogy or appreciation ; * fine.* 

Dial. 5. 211. 
fBoot-hose, Over-stockings 

worn with the boots, and reaching 

from the thigh to the ankle. 4. 

138. Cf. note. 
Bord, n. Corruption of bore, mean- 
ing the interior measurement or 

diameter of a circular cavity. 3. 

271. Cf. note. 
Bounce, v. j[intr. To make a noise 

of explosion, to go * bang.' 4. 487. 
Bounce, inteiy. Imitating the sound 

of a gun. 5. 94. 
Bound, ppL a. I. Having entered 

into a contract binding to service. 

1. 18. 

2. Under obligations (of gratitude, 
&c.). 3. 319. 

Boy, n. f I. As a term of contempt : 
knave, varlet, &c. Ind. 6, 12 ; I. 

489; 2.288,295; s. 315. 

f 2. Attendant or page at the theatre. 
Ind. 61 ; 2. 283, ff. ; 3. 321, ff. ; 

4. 41, 417, ff ; 5. 306. ff. 

f 3. Child-actor. Ind. 63 ; 5. 303. 
4. Used in familiar, affectionate, 
or playful address. 2. 18 ; 3. 375, 
380. 381, 536, 624. 
f5. Servant or page. 4. 13, ff., 
219, ff., 387, 402. 

Braue, a. Used loosely as a gener- 
al epithet of admiration and praise : 
* fine,* * capital,* Ac. Arch. 4. 
433 ; 5. 60, 198. 

Brauely, adv. Worthily, well. 
Dial. ^ In a showy manner ; 
splendidly, finely? 5. 73, 81. 


The Knight of the Burning Pestle 

fBraue •prighted, a. Brave- 
spirited ; brave-minded. 3. 286. 

Breech, n. The buttocks. 3. 601. 

Breed, v. To produce ; to be the 
source of. 5. 139. 

Bright, a. Of persons : * resplen- 
dent with charms * ; beautiful, fair. 
Arch. 2. 327, 565. 

Bring about, phr. To turn around. 
2. 152. 

Bring oif, phr. To deliver, rescue, 
acquit. Arch. 5. 344. 

Broker, n. ^\ go-between in love- 
aflfairs ; a pander. 2.318. Cf. note. 

Bullet, n. f A small round ball of 
soap. 3. 272. Cf. note. 

Burchin Tree, n. Birch tree. 4. 

Business, n. i. A particular mat- 
ter demanding attention, i. 215 ; 

3- 315. 

2. Errand. 4. 17. 
Busse, V. Arch, and dial. To kiss. 

2. 18. 
But, conj. Than. Formerly common 

in negative sentences containing a 

comparative ; now rare. 4. 80. 
By and by, phr. fAt once; 

straightway. I. 340. 

Caitife, a. Obs. form ol caitiff. Vile, 
wicked. 2. 311. 

Caitiffe, n. A base, mean, despi- 
cable * wretch,' a villain. 3. 358. 

Can, V. fTo know. Not given in 
absolute use in N. E. D. i. 468. 

Cannot tell, phr. j-* Know not 
what to say or think of it.' Halli- 
well. 2. 98. Cf. note. 

Cap,?'. fTo arrest. 3. 191, 196, 198. 

Capon, n. A cock-chicken castrat- 
ed for the purpose of improving 
the flesh for table. 5. 3, 182. 

Carduus Benedictus, n. The 
blessed thistle. 3. 336. 

Care. n. i. Oversight with a view 
to protection or guidance. I. 36. 
2. Regard, solicitous attention. 

5. 173- 
fCarke and care, phr. To be 
troubled and full of anxious 
thoughts. I. 386. Cf. note. 

Carre, n. A cart or wagon; now 
rare in this sense. 5. 166. 

Carry, v. i. To escort, *take' (a 
person). Arch, and dtaL Ind. 59. 
f 2. To endure, bear. 5. 28a 

Cast, V. I. To form, fashion. i.$. 
•)'2. To spawn. Phr., cast tkhr 
Mites. 4. 462. 

j'3. Phr., cast their caps at: to 
salute as a superior ; yield prece- 
dence to. 2. 216. Cf. note. 

Cath, n. Form of caUh, (Cf. va- 
riants.) A short musical compo* 
sition, originally for three of more 
voices. 2. 487. (cf. note) ; catch, 
4. 406. 

Censure, n. Judgment, opinion, 
criticism. Arch. Prol. 

Challenge, v. f i. To accuse, ar- 
raign, impeach. Ded. 
f2. Phr., challenge the vail: to 
claim seniority over. Ded. Cf. 

Chamberlain, n. A chamber at- 
tendant on a lord or king, one 
who waits on him in his bedcham- 
ber. Arch. 4. 132. 

Chamberlino, n. Humorous alter- 
ation of chamberlain. f An at- 
tendant at an inn, in charge of 
the bedchambers. 2. 403. 

Charge, n. i. Phr., to be at the 
charge of: to bear the expense 
of. Ind. 115. 

2. Commission; injunction. 1. 11. 

3. Elxpense ; outlay. Arch, I. 

139; 5- 144. 

4. The people under (one's) 
management ; here = troops. 3. 

Chast, a. Obs. form of chaste, 
f Innocent, morally pure. 3. 56. 

Cheapen, v. To ask the price of; 
chaffer or bargain for. Arch, or 
dial. 5. 350. 

Childer, n. Obs. or dial. pi. of 
child. I. 107. 

Chiue, V. Obs. or dial. To be&Jl, 
betide, t^^-* /<^^ chiue him: 
' i. e. may it turn out ill with him, 
ill luck to him. Fr. chever.' Dycc. 
I. 334. Cf. note. 



Choose, V. To do as one likes. 

Obs, or dtal. 4. 390. 
Chop logic, phr. To exchange, 

bandy, arguments. I. 368. 
Churl, ft. A base, low-bred fellow. 

3. 621. 

Cipres, n. Obs. form of cypress. 
The branches of the tree ; used at 
funerals, or as s3nnboIs ol mourn- 
ing. 4. 304. 

Clap in, phr. To press close, strike 
in, lay siege to. Now rare. 1. 1 14. 

Cleere, adv. Obs. form of clear. 
Entirely, completely. 5. 344. 

fCloke-bag, n. A bag in which 
to carry a cloak or other clothing. 

4. 378. 

Cloth, n. f Canvas or other cheap 
material, painted with figures and 
mottoes in imitation of tapestry. 
Common in the expression paint- 
ed cloth. I. 581. Cf. note. 

Colours, pi. n. A flag, ensign, or 
standard, such as is borne in a 
military body. 5. loi, 103. 

fCome aloft, phr. To vault or 
play the tricks of a tumbler. 3. 

Come away, phr. *Come along, 
come on.' Obs. or dial. 5. 308, 
311. 3*6. 

Coins of^ phr. To retire or ex- 
tricate oneself from a combat ; usu- 
ally with reference to the manner. 

3- 242- 

f Corns your waies, phr. Com- 
forting, reassuring, encouraging. 
Obs. or arch. 2. 380, 386. 

Comfrie, n. A tall plant, common 
on margins of streams and ditches, 
with rough leaves, and drooping 
clusters of yellowish-white or red- 
dish-purple bell-shaped flowers ; 
formerly esteemed as a vulnary. 
2. 258. 

Commsnd, v. i. To express ap- 
probation of. Ded. 
'1*2. To recommend or advise (a 
person) to do a thing. 4. 147. 

Commendation, n. Respects ; 
message of love and greeting : 
common in the //. Arch. i. 76. 

Common-councell, n. fA general 
assembly called together for any 
purpose ; now applied only spec.^ 
i. e. the administrative body of a 
town. 4. 445* 

Commons, //. n. The burghers, 
or free citizens, of a town. Ind. 30. 

Comx>anion, n. f As a term of 
contempt. 3. 541. 

Condigne, a. f Appropriate ; mer- 
ited ; adequate. 3. 409. 

Conditions, n. fin the //. : per- 
sonal qualities ; manners, morals, 
ways ; behaviour, temper. 3. 593. 

Conduct, V. fTo carry, transport. 
4. 246. 

Conductor, n. f A miliUry com- 
mander ; one who leads an army. 

3. 546. 

Conduit, n. fA structure from 
which water is distributed or made 
to issue: a reservoir. 4. 421. 
Cf. note. 

fConduit head, n. Same as con- 
duit. 4. 441. 

Confound, v. To overthrow, de- 
feat utterly. Obs. or Arch. 3. 

293 ; 4. 96. 

Coniure, v. To practise the arts 
of a conjurer. 4. 351. 

Conscience, n. f i. Private or in- 
ward thoughts ; inmost mind. 2. 9. 
2. Phr., a (on) my conscience: 
on my word, truly ; used in assev- 
erations. 2. 267. 

Consent, v. To aid, or at least 
voluntarily refrain from opposing, 
when one has the right and power 
to oppose. 2. 537. 

Consume, v. i . To waste, squander. 
I. 23; I. 417. 

j'2. To destroy by a wasting dis- 
ease. 2. 508. 

Content, v. fTo please, gratify ; 
to delight. 2. 37. 

Content, a. Phr., be content: 
f be pleased,' * be so good as.' 

4. 440. 

Contented, ppl. a. fWUling (to 

do something). 4. 108. 
Contrarie, adv. In a very different 

direction. 2. 290. 


The Knight of the Burning Pestle 

Conaerty v. fi. To bring into 
another state of mind and con- 
duct. 3. 463, 465, 466. 

2. To cause to adopt another re- 
ligion, i. e. Christianity. 4. 113. 

Goimey, v, f i. To carry off clan- 
destinely. 4. 336. 
fa. To lead, conduct, guide, by 
going with, or otherwise. 3. 424 ; 

3- 44S ; 3. 501. 

f3. refl. To steal or slip xif/0, 

&c. 4. 341. 

'|'4. To take away, remove. 4. 


5. phr., conuey away: to take 
away, remove. 4. 349. 
Coppy, M. Charter of citizenship. 

3. 434. Cf. note. 

Corps, ff. fThe living body. 5. 


Oost and oharges, phr, \Vnto 
(one's) cost and charges : to (one*s) 
loss, detriment, expense. I. 139. 

Gountenanoe, n. i. Moral endorse- 
ment and support. 4. 413. 
f 2. Demeanor or manner towards 
others as expressing good-will. 
(Countenane) 5. 394. 

fCouragingy ppL a. From obs, 
verb courage : to animate ; en- 
courage ; cheer. Ind. 76. 

Oourteous, a. i. Having such 
manners as befit the court of a 
prince ; graciously polite and re- 
spectful of the position and feel- 
ings of others ; kind and complai- 
sant in conduct to others. I. 267, 

331; 2. 377; 3- 411. 

2. As a formula of address ; orig. 
to superiors = gracious, gentle, 
benign, i. 301 ff. ; 2. 181, 418 ; 

3. 157. 

f 3. Of inferiors : politely respect- 
ful or deferential. 2. 211. 

OoTirtesie, n. f Generous treatment 
3. 185; 4. 86. 

Courtly, a. fCourtierly ; court-like. 
3- 269. 

Craue, v. fi. To demand, to ask 
with authority, or by right 2. 32 1 . 
2. Phr. crave for or from : to re- 
quest, ask earnestly for (something). 

esp, as a gift or favor. 3. 396, 
588 ; 4. 274. 

3. Fig. Of things. To call lor, 
demand (something neceasary or 
desirable). 4. 343 ; 5. 133. 

Gredity n. In pregnant sense : good 
name, honor, glorification. 1 . 286 ; 

4. 434 ; 5. 77. 

Cry, V. To give [mblic oral notioe 
of (things lost). 3. 205. 

-fCry you mercy^ phr, ^nrtaattj 
equivalent to beg your pard&tL 
3. S86. 

fCuekoldly, a. Having the char- 
acter or qualities of a cndrnld; 
often, as here, a mere term of re- 
viling. 3. 629. 

fCunnyy n, A term of endearment, 
Ind. 45, 50; conny, I. 109 (cC 
note) 2. 275 ; cx>ngr,^a. 57a 

Bam, n, I. Mother (human) ; osa- ' 
ally with contempt 2. 242. 
f 2. Phr., Dhuh Dam. 2. 265. 
Cf. note. 

Day, n. Day of battle; hence, 
battle. 5. 85. 

Death, n, Phr., to do to death: 
to put to death. Arch, 3. 173. 

Deoke, v, fTo cover. 4. 276, 

Dee, phr. Obs, form of d'yets 
do ye. 3. 587. 

Def|ye, v. To challenge to a con- 
test, or trial of skill. Arch, 2. 

324, 325. 
Delaying, ppL a. Lingering. 4. 

Delight, n. The quality (in things) 

which causes delight Now only 

poet. To the readers. 
Deliuer, v. fTo make known; 

impart, as information. 3. 477. 
Deniall, n. Hindrance, impediment 

Dial. 2. 66. 
Denie, v. i. To refuse to grant 

(a thing to a person). 2. 207, 


2. To say * no ' to, to refuse (a 

person who makes a request) 2. 

15; 5. 243. 
Denier, n. A French coin, the 



twelfth of the sou ; from the 1 6 th 
c. a small copper coin. Hence 
(esp. in negative phrases) used as 
the type of a very small sum. 
4. 370. 

Depart, v. -{-To part or separate 
from each other. 5. 374. 

fBesaxty n. Obs, form of desert, 
f Any wild, uninhabited region, in- 
cluding forest-land. I. 263, 305. 

Deseming, vbl. n. Merit or worth. 

1. 27. 

Desire, n. Object of desire, i. 61. 
Desperatei a, f i . Involving serious 
risk and danger. 

2. Extreme ; dreadful, * awful.' 3. 

Deoice, ». Inventive faculty; in- 
vention, ingenuity. Arch, and rare, 

4. S4- 

Deaoire, n, fService due or ren- 
dered. Phr. service or devoir is 
frequently met with. 2. 185. 

Di'de, V, Obs, form of died, 4. 

Diet, n, A course of food pre- 
scribed in medical treatment i. 
188 ; 2. 256 ; 3. 454, 491. 

Diet-bread, n. Special bread pre- 
pared for invalids or persons under 
dietic regimen ; fx/^., a preparation 
for sufferers of the French Pox. 

3. 472. Cf. note. 

Ding, V. Arch, or diaL To hit, 

kock, strike. 3. 622. 
Discent, n, Obs. form of descent, 

4. 443. 

Discharge, v, ^refl. To acquit 

oneself; fulfil, perform (a trust, a 

part, &c.). Ind. 139. 
Discretion, n. fjuclgment; deci- 
sion. 5. 399. 
Dismal, a. i. Causing dismay ; 

terrible, dreadful, dire. 3. 279. 

-1*2. Boding or bringing disaster; 

unlucky, fatal. 3. 362. 
Diqpatch, v. i. To dispose of by 

killing. Phr. to dispatch out of 

the way. 3. 317. 

2. To execute speedily. 5. 247. 
Disport, n. Pastime, sport. Arch. 

4. 457. 

Disquiet, n. fDisquieting feeling 
or circumstance, i. 187. 

Dissemble, V. fTofeign, pretend, 
simulate. 3. 49. 

Distempered, ppL a. Denoting 
mental disorder or distraction. Of 
persons {obs, or arch.) ; their minds, 
looks, actions, &c 3. 82. 

Dinell, n, Obs, form of devil, 2. 
164, et passim, 

Doome, v. To destine or consign 
to some adverse fate. 4. 33a 

Down, n, fA hill. 2. 115. 

Dose, It. Form of doten, 2. 15. 

DragO, ff. Form of dragon, 2. 

fDragon's-water, n, A medicinal 
preparation popular in the 17th c. 

1. 278. 

Draw, V, fTo move, proceed. 3. 

Drum, n, tniUt, One who plays 

the drum ; a drummer. 4. 91. 
Ducke, n, A term of endearment 

2. 381. 

Duckling, n, f A term of endear- 
ment 2. 223. 

Due, a. fi. Direct? (The dic- 
tionaries do not recognize this 
meaning), f 2. Genuine ? 4. 443. 

Dutch-man, n, fA German; a 
man of Teutonic race. Obs, exc. 
locally in the U. S. 3. 298. 

Ease, V. To give ease or relief of 

mind to. i. 192. 
Ease, n. f Pleasure, entertsdnment 

2. 57. 
Eie, n. f Phr. bi'th de (by the eye) : 

in unlimited quantity? 2. 94. 
Eke, adv. Arch, Also. 3. 429 ; 


Ell, n. j-A measuring rod. 5. 160. 

^"EaaCLj pron. Unstressed form of /A^m. 
Colloq. I. 69. 

Embecill, v. Obs. form oi embezzle. 
fTo waste or dissipate in extra- 
vagance. 2. 170. 

Emperall, n. Obs. form oiimperial. 
An imperial personage. In 1 6— 1 7th 
c. used as = emperor. 2, 179. 
Cf. note. 


The Knight of the Burning Pestle 

Bngine, n. An implement, a 
mechanical contrivance. Arch, in 
the general sense. Spec.^ a comb. 

3. 268. 

Bnormityi n. A transgression, 
crime. 3. 259. 

Snow, n. Arch, and dial. The 
plural of enough. 4. 311. 

fEntertaixi, n. Reception of a 
guest ; entertsdnment 2. 399, 425. 

Entertaine, v. f To maintain re- 
lations with (a person). 3. 74. 

Sntertainment, n. Hospitable 
provision for the wants of a guest ; 
csp. provbion for the table. Arch. 

5. 273. 
Sntreate, v. i. To ask earnestly 

for. 4. 198. 

2. To beseech, implore. With 

obj. clause om., rare. 5. 242. 
Er'Oi adv. Obs. form of ever. I. 


Brrant, a. i. Traveling, roaming 
(in quest of adventure, or like a 
knight-errant). Poet, or arch. i. 
289 ; 2. 139. 

2. Said of knights who traveled 
about in search of adventures. 
2. 188, et passim. 

Brrant, n. Obs. form of errand. 
In an elevated or dignified sense: 
here, an expedition of rescue. Arch. 
or poet. ' 2. 441. 

Srst, adv. tJ^^^ ^ little while since. 

4. 463. 

Estate, n. Worldly possession, prop- 
erty, fortune. Arch. 1. 394. 

Esteeme, v. -fThr., esleeme of: to 
hold opinion of. I. 374. 

Estimation, n. fRepute; worth 
in the opinion of others. 5. 138. 

fEttin, n. f A giant or goblin. 
Nares says that the word, because 
of its etymology (from A. S. etan^ 
to eat), implies cannibalism, i. 

^ixeUfadv. Exactly, precisely, * just.' 

Arch. Ded. i. 12, 219 (e'ne). 
Ewe, n. Obs. form o( j'ew. Twigs 

of the tree used at funerals. 4. 

Example, n. A precedent to which 

appeal is made to justify or aiithor- 
ize any course of action. Obs. or 
arch. 5. 139. 

Extant, a. Standing forth to viev : 
in early use with phr. extant to be 
seen : prominent, conspicuous, mao- 
ifest. Arch. 2. 306. 

Extraordinary, fadv. Extraordi- 
narily. I. 408. 

Factor, n. An agent to boy and 

sell goods. I. 16. 
fFading, n. The name of an Irish 

dance. 4. 5. Cf. note. 
Faine, a. fApt, wont, prone. I. 

Faint, v. To lose heart or courage, 

be siraid. 5. 162. 
Faire, a. i. Promising, figivorable. 

1. 10; 5. 163. 

2. Just I. 41. 

f 3. Of language, diction : deganL 
Comb, with spoken^ i. e. /atr- 
spoken I. 267 ; 2. 43. 
f 4. Used in courteous or respect- 
ful address. I. 270, 317 ; 2. 315, 
420; 3. 189, 295 ; 4. 410. 
f 5. Desirable, reputable. 2. 35. 
6. In conventional application to 
women. I. 304 ; 2. 44, 54. 
t7. Reputable. 5. 105. 
Faire, adv. f i. Fully, completelj. 
Obs. or dial. Phr., faire growne, 

3- 304. 

t2. Without haste or violence. 

5. 102, 151. 
Faire, n. One of the fair sex; 

esp. a beloved woman. Arch, or 

poet. 4. 318. 
Fftirelie, adv. fCourteously, re- 
spectfully. 2. 212. 
Faith, n. Phrases fi. By the £uth 

a my body. Quasi-oath. 2. 215 ; 

3. 143- 

2. By (^my) faith (and troth). Quasi- 
oath. I. 218, 264. 

3. I faith, rfaith, i'faith. (Reduced 
from in faith, and used interjec- 
tionally). In truth. Arch. Ind. 
141, et passim. 

4. Vpon (my) faith. Quasi-oath. 
I. 81. 



'Faithy interj. Shortened from in 
(good) faith. In truth. Arch. 
exc. dial. I. 221. 

Faith) inttrj. In or on one's faith. 
Obs. or arch. i. 255, et passim. 

Fall, n. f Condition, lot. 1.4; 4. 

Falaifie, v. ^Fencing term: to 
make (a blow) under Qpver of a 
feint 3. 373. 

fFarre, v. intr. for refl. To re- 
move. Ohs. exc . dial. 5. 14. 
Cf. note. 

Fashion, n. f Pretence ; assumed 
behaviour. 4. 156. 

Fathame, n. Obs. form ol fathom. 
Ind. 88. 

Fault, n. 'I' I. An unsound or dam- 
aged place ; a flaw. 5. 122. 
f2. A deficiency, lack, want. 5. 

Fauour, n. I. Phr., by your 
fauour : by your leave, permission, 
pardon. Obs. or arch. Ind. 17. 

2. Attractiveness, charm ; something 
which conciliates good-will. Obs. 
exc. arch. 2. 140. 

3. In medisvel chilvalry, something 
given by a lady to her knight, as 
a sleeve, glove, or knot of ribbons, 
to be worn as a token of affection. 
Arch. 4. 109, III. 

Feard, ppl. a. Frightened. Obs, 
exc. dial. Ind. 77. 

Feare, V. ti*'^<>^"g^^<^°* Ind. 78. 
f 2. To have fear for ; have anx- 
iety about 4. 344. 

fFeateoualy, adv. Cleverly ; dex- 
terously ; nimbly ; properly. 4. 456. 

Fegary, n. (A corruption of va- 
gary). Dial, and colloq. A whim ; 
a wild freak ; a prank. 2. 273. 

Fellow, n. I. Contemptuously: a 
person of no esteem or worth 
(felow = obs. form), i. 33 ; 3. 542. 

2. Compeer ; equal in ability or 
qualities ; a ' match.' 2. 44. 

3. Companion, comrade. Now 
rare exc. in ^/., or with const in. 

4. 445- 

fFellow-feeler, w. A sympathizer. 

3. 563. 

fFellow like, a. Like a companion ; 

companionable. 3. 542. 
Fetch, V, I. Phr., fetch up: to 

produce ; cause to come forth, 

bring to light. Ind. 76. 

f 2. To * have at,' reach, strike 

(a person). 3. 380. 

3. To cause to come, as by a sum- 
mons or constraining force. Now 
rare, Ind. 120; 2. 174. 

4. Bring, i. 462 ; 2. 558 ; 4. 43, 

Feth, interj, Obs. form oi faith. 
In or on one's faith. Obs, or arch, 

.3. 334. 

Field, n. fin //. used in collective 
sense to denote the country as 
opposed to the town (spec, the 
country environs of London, i. e. 
Mile-end, &c., set apart for military 
drills)? Battle-fields? 5. 159. 

Fiery, a. Fire-bearing ; esp. of an 
arrow, shaft, &c. Lit, and fig, 
3. 481. 

Filching, vbl, n. Stealing, esp, in 
a small, sly way. Originally 
slang, and, as such, first recorded 
in the i6th c. 2. 493. 

Fild,//. Obs, form of filled, 5. 25. 

Fill, v. With the introduced con- 
tents as object : to put (wine, &c.) 
into a vessel with the view of 
filling it ; hence, pour out. Obs, 
exc. arch, 3. 612, 636 ; 5. 351. 

Fine, adv. Well. Obs. exc. dial. 
2. 248. 

Fine spoken, a. Using fine phrases ; 
polite in language, i. 362. 

Fire-drake, n. Fiery dragon. 2. 

Fit, V. j-To supply with that which 
is fit or suitable. Obs. when the 
object is a person. 4. 362. 

-f-Flappet, n. A flap or edge, as 
of a counter, i. 277. 

Flea, V. Obs. form of flay, I. 371. 

-f-Flirt Gill, n. A woman of light 
or loose behaviour. 4. 33. 

Flocke, n. A band or company 
(of persons). 4. 444. 

Fond, n. I. Unwise ; mad. Obs. 
exc. dial. 3, 355, 366 ; 5. 6, 10. 


The Knight of the Burning Pestle 

2. Infatuated, foolish, silly. Obs, 
cxc. dial. Dcd ; 5. 36. 

3. Of sentiments, &c. : cherished 
or entertsdned with strong or un- 
reasoning affection. 5. 42. 

Foote, V. To move the foot, step, 
or tread to measure or music ; to 
dance. Esp. in phr. to foot it. 

4. 456. 

-f-For and, conj. phr. And more- 
over. 2. 184. 
Forked, a. -)- 1. Of an arrow : barbed. 

5- 318. 359. 

f2. * Homed,* cuckolded. 5. 361. 

Cf. note. 
Forsoothi adv. fin truth, truly. 

i. 360, et passim. 
Fort, phr. Obs. contraction oi for 

it. 2. 13. 
Forward, a. Ready, eager. 2 252. 
Foule, ft. Something evil ; ill-luck. 

'f'Phr., foult chiue Aim .* may evil 

success attend him. I. 434. 
Fk«e-maii, n. One who possesses 

the freedom of a city, borough, 

company, &c Ind. 15. 
Friend, n, fA lover, i. 44; 2. 

246 ; 3. 7» 27» 81 ; 4. 281, 333. 
FHght, V. To scare, terrify. Now 

rarf exc. poet, and Sc, 3. 8 1, 


Frighted, ppL a. Affected with 
fright 3. 5. 

Ftolooke, a. Obs. form of frolic. 
•j- Joyous, merry, mirthful. 3.612. 

Ftoward, a. Now only Ut. Dis- 
posed to go counter to what is 
demanded ; perverse, refractory. 
I. 123 ; 3. 46. 

Frowningst, ppl. a. Superlative 
oi frowning. That frowns ; stem ; 
threatening. 2. 516. 

Oad, n. Rare exc. arch, (Minced 
pronunciation of God.) Substitu- 
ted for Gody esp. in phr. by Gad. 
Ind. 70. 

Gaine, n. -)-Source of gain (i. e. 
goods). I. 21. 

Gallowes, n. One deserving the 
gallows ; a gallows-bird. Arch. 
I. 421. 

fCkdly-foist, n. A barge of state. 
5. 187. Cf. note. 

Game, n. -{-Diversion, pastime; 
hence, spec, amorous sport or 
play? Scheme, intrigue, under- 
taking, followed up like a game ? 
I. 140. 

fOaakins, n. A kind of loose 
breech or hose. Chiefly pL 2. 

Oastly, a. Obs, form of ghastly, 
•{-Causing terror, terrible. 3. 452 ; 
5. 22. 

-|<lent, a. Of women and childreB : 
graceful, elegant, pretty. Phr. 
Ladies gent is of frequent occur- 
rence. 3. 262, 360. 

Gentle, a. i. Of birth, blood, &c : 
distinguished by birth or position ; 
of the class of *■ gentlemen.' I. 
90 ; 3- 235, 507. S93- 
f2. Of actions, &c: cooxteoos, 
considerate. I. 117. 
3. Having the character and man- 
ners appropriate to good birth and 
station. Freq. in the phr. a gentle 
knight, 2. 120, 125, 202, 408; 
3. 161, 190, 264, 500. 

Get, V. fTo win. 3. 131. 

Get (oneself) np, vbl. phr, refi. 
To betake oneself up from a place. 
Common in the imperative. Arch, 

> 153. 

Gird, n, A gibe, taunt In com- 
mon use, c. 1580 — 1700; now 
somewhat arch. Ind. 10. 

Giue, V, fOf (one's) mind, &c: 
to suggest unfavorably ; misgive. 
Ind. 113. 

Giue ear, phr. To give heed ; pay 
attention. 5. 154. 

Giue (one's) hand, phr, fTo 
pledge (oneself). 3. 331. 

Go hard, phr. With but introdu- 
cing a statement of what will 
happen unless prevented by over- 
powering circumstances. 5. 395. 

Gold, n. f The metal as used for 
the ornamentation of fribrics. 4. 
51, 60. 

Go (one's) waies, phr, i. Take 
your way ; go about your busi- 



ncss ; or used as a mere expletive. 
Obs. or arch, 2. 42, 295 ; 4. 29 ; 

5. 371. 

2. Common when bidding a per- 
son to be gone ; used in a kindly 
manner. Dial. i. 220, 335. 

Good, n, -f-A good quality, virtue. 
Rare, 3. 76. 

Qood-man, n, *f-Used as a title 
of address, orig. to yeomen or 
farmers ; here used derisively. Ind. 
6 ; 2. 295. 

Gk>Mip, n, -)-A hoydenish ' gad- 
about'? 4. 154. Cf. note. 

GtouemOi v. "YTo administer, man- 
age. I. 440. 

Grace, n, i, Phr., grace of God : 
an Expression signifying the re- 
generative and sanctifying influence 
of God. I. 360. 

2. A courtesy-title given to a 
monarch, and serving as a com- 
plimentary periphrasis. Phr., the 
great Turkes grace, Obs, exc. 
arch, I. 483. 

3. Sense of duty or propriety. 
Phr., hetve the (any) grace (to 
do or be something). 2. 222. 

Grace, v, -j-To show favor or be 

gracious to. 3. 504. 
Grant, n, -)-Consent, permission. 

1. 194. 

Grant, v, -)-To sanction, permit 
5. 202. 

Gratioue, a, Obs, form of gracious. 
Condescendingly beneficent. Often, 
as here, used* in sarcastic or play- 
ful application. 4. 444. 

Greene, n, A grassy spot. Rare. 

2. 304. 

Griefe, n, f i. Physical illness or 
pain. Prol. 

•\2, Feeling of offence ; displeasure, 
anger. 2. 33. 

Grimely, a, Obs. or arch. Grim- 
looking. 2. 478. 

Ghroat, n, A silver coin in circu- 
lation after the 13 th c, but va- 
rjing in intrinsic value in different 
countries and periods. The Eng- 
lish groat coined in 135 1 — 2 was 
made equal to four pence. The 

groat ceased to be issued for cir- 
culation in 1662, and was not 
afterwards coined under that name. 

4. 138, 369. 
Grocery, n, fGrocers. Ind. 97. 

Cf. note. 
Ground, n. The solid bottom un- 

derljring the sea. Nautical, Ind. 88. 
fGrout-nole, n, A blockhead, 

thickhead, dunce. 2. 413. 
Grow, V. I. To advance, progress. 

Phr., to grow toward. Rare. 3. 


2. To come by degrees (const to 
with inf.) Rare, 4. 26 1. 

Growth, n. Advancement I. 5. 

Gut, n. Guts, intestines. (Employ- 
ment of the sing, in the genei^ 
sense is rare,) i. 96. 

Ha, V, A worn-down form of have, 
Colloq, or dial, 2, 146, et passim, 

fHa, pron. He. 3. 546 ; 4. 193. 

Habits, n. Dress ; costume. Arch, 

f Halter-sacke, n, A gallows-bird : 
a term of obloquy, i. 372. 

Hamper, v, i. To impede; en- 
cumber with difficulties, i. 380. 
•f-2. To restrain by confinement 

3. 106. 

Hard, adv. "j-With an imeasy or 
uncomfortable pace. 3. 435. 

Hamesse, n* Armour. Hist, or 
arch. 4. 3. 

fHartely, adv. With the heart; 
earnestly, sincerely. I. 184; 3. 
604 ; 5. 292. 

Has. Form of h'as, an obs, con- 
traction of he has, i. 116. 

f Haue yp, phr. Stand up 1 get 
up 1 brace yourself I 3.377. Cf. 

Hawlk, n. Obs, form of hccwk, 

4. 379. 

Head-peece, n, A piece of armour 
for the head, a helmet 2. 330. 

Heart, ff. Phrases, ^i. My heart / : 
an ejaculation of surprise, &c. 3. 

2. Deere heart : a term of endear- 
ment 3. 150. 



The Knight of the Burning Pestle 

Heate, n. New life, animation, 
courage, spirit. Fig, 1.4. Cf.notc. 

fHedge binding, n. Something 
used to bind together the bushes 
composing a hedge. 2. 454. 

Helme, n. Helmet Port, or arch, 
2. 112, 119. 

Here, v» Obs, form of hrar. 2. 
179, tt passim. 

Hether, adz: Obs, form of hither. 

1. 261. 

Hight, //. Called, named. Arch, 

2. 408, et passim. 

Him, pron, fit. Ded, 

His, pron. f^^s. Ded. 

History, n, f A relation of inci- 
dents (in early use, either true or 
imaginary ; later, only of those 
professedly true) ; a narrative, tale, 
story. 3. TttU ; i. 281 ; 4. 64. 

Hobby-horse, n. fin the Morris- 
dance, a dancer, about whose waist 
was fastened the figure of a horse 
made of wicker work or other 
light material. 4. 456. Cf. note. 

fHoit, V. To indulge in riotous 
and noisy mirth. I. 386 ; hoight, 

4. 194. 

Hold, V. I. Phr., hold (one's) 
peace: to cease or refrain from 
speaking. Arch. Ind. 6, 43. 

2. Phr., hold vp (one's) head : to 
maintain one's dignity, pride, 
courage. Ind. 80 ; 2. 108. 

3. rejl. To persist in an opinion. 

1. 413. Cf. note. 

f4. To wager, beL 2. 295 ; 3. 

5. Phr., hold vp : to resist. Dial. 

3. 371. 

6. (For reji.). In imperative as 
an exclamation = Stop 1 Arch. 

5. 45. 

Holesome, a. Obs. form of whole- 
some. 4. 98. 

Honest, a. Well-intentioned, well- 
disposed. Ind. 136. 

Honour, n. i. Phr., in or for the 
honour of: for the sake of honor- 
ing ; in celebration of. Ind. 29 ; 

4- 427 ; 5. 77. 

2. Phr., to the honour of: for the 

sake of honoring ; in celebration 
of. Obs. 4. 416. 
Hony, n. Obs. form of honey. 

1. 166. 

Horse, v. To carry on a man's 
back or shoulders. 3. 128. 

Hote, a. Obs. form oihot. 4. 237. 

House, n. fPhr., to fling the house 
out at the window : to put every- 
thing into confusion. 3. 528. 

How do you, phr. Obs. or dutl. 
How fare you ; how are you. 2. 
103 ; how dost thou, 2. 364. 

Hower, n. Obs. form of h4mr. 
4. 338. 

Huffing, ///.a. Blustering, ranting ; 
swaggering. Ind. 82. 

Hurle, V. f To * throw * in wrestling. 
3- 297. 

I, fintery. Aye ; yes. Ind. 50, 94, 
125; I. 264, 309. 413.4^9.433; 

2. 96, 140, 288, 573 ; 3. 207, 231, 
503. 518; 4. 151; 5. 8- 

I, prep. * I,' i, weakened from In 
before a consonant, as in f faith. 
Now dial, or arch. Ind. 141, et 

I faith, phr. Ind. 1 4 1 . Cf. faith. 

HI, adv. Wrongfully : malevolently. 

m, n. Wrong-doing. Arch. 3. 506. 

ni-fauouredly, adv. Unpleasingly ; 
in an ill-favoured manner. 4. 6i. 

Imbrace, v. or n. Obs. form of 
embrace. 2. 1 20, 546. 

Imployment, n. Obs. form of 
employment. 4. 20, 

In, prep. fAt 2. 115. 

Inchanted, ppL a. Obs. form of 
enchanted. 2. 1 16, et passim. 

Inchantment, n. Obs. form of 
enchantment. 2. 359. 

f Indeed-law, inter/, phr. Chiefly 
assevcrative. 2. 99, et passim. 

Indent, ///. a, (Reduced form in- 
dented) f Formerly applied to the 
severing of the two halves of a 
document, drawn up in duplicate, 
by a toothed, zigzag or wavy line, 
so that the two parts exactly tal- 
lied with each other. 4. 92. 



Infidel, ft. f One who is unfaithful I 
to his duty. I. 66. 

Inforce, v. Obs, form of enforce. 
To compel , constrain, oblige. Const. 
to with inf. Arch, 4. 84. 

flngrant, a. A perverted form of 
ignorant. N, E, D,? A corrup- 
tion of m^a/<r. Ungrateful. Arch.f 
3. 576. Cf. note. 

Inoughy ctdv, Obs, form oi enough, 

3- 503. 
X'now, a. Obs, form oi enow, 2, 

556. Cf. Enow, 
Intent| n. Aim ; purpose ; object 

of an action. Hare or obs. i. 313. 
Intreat, v. Obs. or arch, form of 

entreat, fTo prevail upon by 

entreaty or solicitation. 4. 153. 
Invective, a. Characterized by 

denunciatory or railing language ; 

vituperative, abusive. Now rare. 

To the Readers. 
Inueigle, v. To gain over and 

take captive by deceptive allure- 
ment. 2. 220. 
Issue, n. Progeny. Fig, 5. 161. 
It, pron, fi. Used for he, i, 330, 

410; 2. 12, 108, 383, 514; 3. 

335, 337. 

f2. Used for she, 3. 150. 

I'th', prep, A contraction of i'the 
= in the. Dial, or arch, i. 186, 

I-wisse, adv. Indeed, truly, assur- 
edly. Obs, or arch, i. 392 ; 2. 

lack, n, f A low-bred or ill-man- 
nered fellow, a * knave.' Phr., 
play the lacks : to play the knave, 
to do mean trick. Ind. 20. 

lerkin, n. In the i6th and 17th 
centuries, a close-fitting jacket, 
jersey, or short coat, often made 
of leather ; worn by men. Arch, 
5. 71. 

loy, V, To enjoy. Arch, i, 204. 

tluggy, n, A familiar substitute 
for the feminine name Joan, ap- 
plied as a term of endearment to 
a sweetheart or mistress, or as a 
term of endearment. 3. 568. 

Kickshoes, n, Obs, form of kid- 
shau's, A fancy dish in cookery. 
(Qiieily with contemptuous force : 
a * something ' French, not one of 
the known * substantia] English * 
dishes). To the Readers. 
f Kill one's heart, phr. To de- 
press or discourage one completely. 
4. 146. 
Kind, a, I. Affectionate, loving, 
fond. Hare exc. dial, I. 145 ; 
3. 44, 61 ; 4. 287. 
f2. Well-breed, of good birth, 
gentle, i. 217, 219; 3. 278. 
Kinde, n. The manner, way or 
fashion, which is proper or befit- 
ting to the character. Freq. in 
phr., in f their y his) kind. Com- 
mon in 17 th c. ; now arch. Ind. 
98 ; 3. 629. 

"1*2. Race ; stock ; breed, i. 209. 
Kindly, adv, i, Phr., to take 
kindly : to accept good-naturedly, 
or as a kindness, i. 168. 
f 2. Thoroughly. 5. 373. 
Kxiack, n. A trinket, knick-knack. 

Obs. } 2. 91 ; 4. 422. 
Knaue, n. Jocularly, or without 
seriously impljring bad qualities. 
Now rare, $. 289. 
Knauery,^. Trickery, fraud. 1.68. 
f Knight Aduenturer, ». Knight- 
errant. 3. 276. 
f Knight aduenturous, n. Knight- 
errant. 3. 388. 
Knock up, phr. To make up 
(hastily or off-hand), to arrange 
summarily. Frequently used with 
reference to a match or marriage, 
2, 17. 
Knot-grasse, n, A common plant 
in wet ground, with numerous in- 
tricately branched creeping stems, 
and small pink flowers ; an in- 
fusion of it was formerly sup- 
posed to stunt the growth. 2. 104. 

Ladie, n. i. In the days of chiv- 
alry, a woman chosen by a knight 
as the object of his devotion, or 
of some special service. I. 263, 
304; 2. 120, 123, 136, &c. 


The Knight of the Burning Pestle 

2. The Virgin Mary. Intcrj. phr., 
by (hy'r) Ladie : contraction of 
by our Lady used as an oadi or 
expletive. Obs, exc, dial. 1. 413. 

3. Vocativcly. In the sin^^. Now 
only poft, or rhet, 2. 191, 201. 

4. The feminine corresponding to 
lord. 4. 457. 

Ijaxn, n. Obs. form of lamb. 3. 309. 
Tfftfn^i a. Defective ; weak. /Vjf. 


Lapi V. To take up with the tongue. 
Rarely applied to human beings, 
or used in connection with solid 
food. 5- 3 '9. 

fLaualtOt n, *A lively dance for 
two persons, consisting a good 
deal in high and active bounds.' 
Nares. 3. 611. Cf. note. 

Launc6| n, Obs, form of lanct, 

1. 236, el passtm. 

Lay, V, I. To wager, bet 2.461, 
463, 470, 472. 

2. To deal blows, attack. Hare 
in absol. use. 5. 95. 

Lay on, pkr. intr. To deal blows 
with vigor 5. 90. -j-Formerly 
often with dative pron. denoting 
object of attack. 2. 365. 

Leading staffe, n, f A staff borne 
by a commanding officer ; a trun- 
cheon. 5. 340. 

Leasure, n, Obs. form of leisure, 
•|*Opportunity to do something spec- 
ified or implied. 2. 317. 

Lesson, n. •j'Phr., do (one's) lesson : 
to teach (one). 2. 270. 

Let, n. Hindrance, obstruction. 
Arch, I. 82. 

Let me alone, phr, I may be 
trusted. Colloq. 4. 36, 341. 

Liberall, a. Of an entertainment, 
&c. : abundant, ample. 3. 185. 

Liberally, adv, fChiefly with ref- 
erence to speech : without reserve 
or restraint; freely, i. 17. 

Licoras, n. Obs, form of liquorice. 

1. 77. 

liie, V. Phrases. I. To lie in: to 
be in childbed. 3. 450. 

2. To lie open : to be exposed 
to attack. 3. 374. 

Light, pp. Obs, past participle of 

li^hf. 3. 225. 
Light, V, Obs. preterite of l^. 

3. 438. 

Like, a. Predicatively const tc 
with inf, : likely to. Hare in liter- 
ary use, but still common coll^. 
Prol. ; Ind. 117; 4. 431. 

Like, adv. In like degree, cquallv. 
Arch, or poet. Ind. 134. 

Like, V. Phr. impersonal, ii likes 
(one) : (one) is pleased. Arch, 
zxAdiaL 4. 197 ; 5. I20, 135, 136. 

Lim, n, Obs. spelling of liimb. I. 

Lingell, n. Arch. A shoemaker's 
waxed thread. 5. 322. 

List, n. Inclination, desire. Arck, I. 
392 ; 3. 532 ; 5. 204. 

Long of^ phr. For 'long ofss 
along of. Arch, and diaL At- 
tributable to ; on account of. 4. 
107 ; 5- 306. 

Longs, n. Obs. form of tun^. 
2. 508. 

Loose, V. Obs. form of lose. 2. 

423 ; 3. 10. 

Louing,/^/. a. * Means here posses- 
sing her I love.' Mason. 3. 140. 

fLungeis, n. A long, slim, awk- 
ward fellow : a lout 2. 365. 

Lusty, a. -)-i. Of pleasant appear- 
ance, beautiful, i. 192. 
2. Strong. Now somewhat arch. 
in literary use ; common in dia- 
lects. 4. 15. 

ICaine, a, i. As an epithet of 

force, strength, &c. ; exerted to the 

full, sheer. 3. 290. 

2. Very great or considerable. 

Obs. cxc. dial. 5. 124. 
Maister, n, Obs. form of master, 

1. Applied to an employer, i. 12, 

2. A title of address now changed 
to mister. Arch. Ded. ; i. 80, 

Maistership, n. Obs. form of 
I mastership, f With posses, pron., 
; i. e. yottr maistership. 2. 198. 
i Make,?'. To do. ^r<rA. in questions 



introduced by an objcctiTe what, 
Conunon in i6— 17th c. 3. 82. 

Hake bold, ^. To make (so) 
bold : to Tentore, presome so far 
as, take the libeitj (to do some- 
thing). 3. 575. 

Hake it to bc^ ^. Cause it to 
be. With obj. and inf. ; arch. 
when dependent verb is in the 
passive (i. e. make it to be hist). 

3- 325. 

JKangyy a. f Used as a general term 
of contempt: beggarly, mean, 
' lousy.' Very common in the 
17th c. 3. 541. 

llATChanti n. An obs. form of 
merchant. The Speakers Names, 
et passim, 

f Xarch-beere, n. A strong ale or 
beer brewed in March. 5. 182. 

f ICarie come yp, phr. Expressive 
of contempt, or satirical encourage- 
ment. 3. 579. 

JCarry, interf. Obs, or arch. (Orig. 
Mary, Marie, the name of the Vir- 
gin Mary invoked in oaths) Indeed 1 
forsooth I a term used to express 
surprise, asseveration, &c. Ind. 
40 ; marrie, 2. 140 ; marie, 3. 143, 
575. 603 ; 5. 222. 

f Martiall Gourt, n. Court-martial. 

5. 133. 

Karuell, n, fPhr., to have marvel : 
to be astonished, struck with won- 
der. 2. 221. 

Bfannger, n. Obs. form of manger. 
2. 410. 

KaWy n, f Stomach ; appetite ; hence y 
inclination, i. 150. 

Mealed, ppl. a. Sprinkled with 
meal. Rare, 5. 5. 

Meate, n, f i. Dinner, i. 256. 

2. Solid food of any kind ; com- 
mon in phr., meat and drink. 
I- 397, 447 ; 2. 480. 

3. Food in general. Obs. or arch, 

4. 375. 

Meeke, a. Humble ; unpretentious. 

I. 297. 
Member, n. Inhabitant; citizen. 

Obs,? Ind. 13. 
Merry, adv. Merrily. Ind. 126. 

fMeiry and wise, phr. A pro- 
verbial expression. 2. 102 (cf. 
note) ; 5. 68. 

Merry men, n, f Retainers, fol- 
lowers ? 2. 483. 

Me thinkes, phr. It seems to me. 
Arch, and lit, Ind. 85, 103 ; 4. 

2 ; 5. 372. 

f Methridatum, n. In old phar- 
macy ^ a medicine made of many 
ingredients, supposed to be an 
antidote or preservative against 
poison. I. 278. Cf. note. 

Mettle, n, I. Obs, form of metal, 
2, 165. 

2. Spirit ; courage ; ardor. Phr., 
lads of mettle, 3. 557. 

fMiokle, adv. Much, greatly, a. 

Minion, n, fA bold, forward girl 
or woman; a minx. 3. 127. 

Miscarry, v, fi. To bring to 
misfortune. 2. 351. 

2. To come to naught ; fail in 
purpose. 4» 43^- 

fMielike, n. Misliking; aversion. 

Misprision, n, fMisunderstanding. 

Mittimus, n. Warrant for arrest. 

3. loi. 

Monethy n, Obs, form of month, 

Ind. 36, et passim, 
Morrice, n. An old country dance. 

4. 434 (cf. note), 456. 

Moue, V. f To address one's self 
to ; speak to about an affair. 
2. 13. 

Mouse, n. A familiar term of en- 
dearment, I. 100, et passim. 

Mute, V, 4. 463. Cf. note. 

Napkin, n, fA handkerchief. 4. 


Narrowly, adv. Carefully, atten- 
tively. 5. 83. 

NatuiBll, a, fLawful, legitimate. 

3- 540- 

Naughty, a. fBad ; worthless ; 
good for nothing. 2. 81 ; 4* 31* 

Necessaries, n, pi, f Things pro- 
vided for the performance of a 


The Knight of the Burning Pestle 

specific purpose. Ind. 70. Cf. 
Need, n. -{-Necessary service. 2. 

Neighbor, n, i. A familiar term 
of address. Dial, and colloq, 5. 
118, 128. 
2. One who stands near another. 

5. 137. 

Nere, adv, A form of ne'er = never. 

Ind. 55. 

Ner'e, a</v. Form of ne'er, i. 342, 

Keuer. adv. i. Not, emphatically. 

Ind. 63. 

2. Not a whit Obs.? 4. 409. 
New, adv. -J-Anew. i. 5. 
Nice. a. I . Fastidious ; difficult to 

please or satisfy. To the Readers. 

-{*2. Foolish, unwise. 3. 24. 
Kimph, n. Obs. form of nymph. 

Maiden ; damsel. Poet. i. 207. 
f Kixiiuy, n. A kind of " motion " 

or puppet-show, representing the 

story of Jonah and the whale. 3. 

306. Cf. note. 
fNipitstO, n. Strong ale. A 

mock Latin word. 4. 100. Cf. 

No, adv. Not 5. 400. 
fNoble Science, n. Fencing; 

' science of defence.' 2. 54. Cf. 

-j-Koddie, n. A simpleton ; a fool. 

2. 249. 
-j-Koint, v. To anoint. 2. 260; 

4. 136. 
Ko more,>Ar. -{-Enough 1 Silence I 

2. 297. 
Nor, conj. Correlative to another 

nor. Obs. or poet, i. 54. 
Kor so, phr. Not at all ; no, no 1 ? 

Obs.? I. 171. Cf. note. 
Notable, a, •{- 1 . Notorious. 1 . 42 1 . 

2. Noteworthy; memorable. 4.416. 
Notably, £r</v. Excellently; cleverly. 

Ind. 29. 
Number, v. To measure, reckon, 

gauge. 3. II. 
fNump, n. Usually numps. A 

dolt ; a blockhead. 2. 263. Cf. 


Obeysaace, n. Obs. form of obei- 
sance. Phr., to do obeysance: to 
make a respectful bow or cuitsf. 
Now chiefly lit. and arch. 5. 

Of, prep. Obs. form of off. 2. 341 ; 

3- 375 ; 4. 473 ; 5. 344. 

Of, prep, 1. On. Obs., coUoq., or 
Tml^r. 2. 492 ; 3. 330. 
-{-2. Because of. Mostly obs. 4. 

Ofl; prep. Obs. form of o/, 2. 337. 

Offence, n. -{-Wrong, injury. $. 


Offend, v. f To attack, assault, as- 
sail. 3. 83. 

Oflbr, n. fi. Something held oat 
as a bribe or means of persuasion ? 

1. 54. Cf. note. 

2. Proposal. I. 118. 

Offer, V. To attempt to inflict 5. 


fOffor to carry (one's) books af- 
ter, phr. To attempt to equal. 
2. 141. 

Office, n. Service or function to be 
performed. 2. 31. 

Ofiftcer, n. f A menial or domestic 
in a great household. 4. 129 ; 5. 

Of-Spring, n, Obs. form of off- 
spring. Ded. 

On, prep, for I. 323 ; 2. 547. 

Onely, adv, Obs. form of only. 
I- 373» ^^ passim, 

On't, phr. For on it ss of it 
Common in literary use to c. 1750. 
Now dial, or vulgar. I. 323, et 

Or ere, conj. phr. For or e'er = 
or ever. Intensive of the conj. 
or = before. 1.455. 

Or ... or, correl. conj. Either . . . 
or. Now only poet. 2. 527. 

0th, prep. For o*th, a worn down 
form of of the. i. 295. 

Ougly, a. Obs. form of ugly. 3. 
256, 282. 

Out alas, inter/, phr. An expres- 
sion of lamentation^ Arch, or dial. 
2. 196. 



Owne, a. Absolute use (mostly 
with preceding possessive) : that 
which is (one's) own ; property, 
possessions. Somewhat arch, i. 
347, 470. 

Paramoure, n. The lady-love of 
a knight. Poet, 5. 295. 

Part, V. To take one's leave or 
departure. Arch. 4. 146. 

Particular, n. fA single thing or 
person among a number, consid- 
ered alone. Prol. 

Passio, n. I. A passage in a play 
marked by strong emotion ; a pas- 
sionate speech or outburst Obs, 
or arch. 3. 317. 
2. A mood marked by abandon- 
ment of emotion. 5. 58.. 

Patience, n. -{*Sufferance ; indul- 
gence. 5. 393. 

tP»y liome, phr. I. To give(one 
his) deserts; punish. 3. 387. 

Peace, n. Phrases. I. To hold 
(one's) peace: to keep silent, re- 
frain from speaking. Arch. Ind. 
6, et passim, 

-f*2. To take the peace on : to con- 
ciliate, appease ? 2. 282. 

fPeart vp, phr. To raise briskly ; 
perk. Rare. I. 103. 

Peccaui, v, * I have sinned ' ; 
hence an acknowledgment of 
guilt. 4. 38. 

Pencion, n, Obs. form oi pension, 
-f*A contribution ; a remittance. 

1. 22. 

fPepper-nel, n. A lump or swel- 
ling. Rare. 2. 280. 

Perfect, a. Thoroughly informed, 
trained, conversant Arch. 4. 16. 

Periwig, n. A wig. Obs, exc. 
hist. I. 491. 

Perriloue, a. fGreatly to be dread- 
ed or avoided ; terrible, awful. 

2. 1x5. 

Plilebotomy, n. Blood-letting. 4. 

Pined, ppl, a. f Afflicted ; tortured. 

3. 475. 

Pipe, n. Windpipe. Colloq. i. 


f Pitch-field, n, A pitched battle. 

2. 80. 

Plainely, a. i. Honestly; sincerely. 

3. 332- 

2. Openly, without obstruction. 

4. 441. 

Play, V. I. To enact the part of. 
Ind. 63. 

\2. Phr., to play a lesson: to 
teach a lesson. 3. 531. 

fPlucke a rose, phr. an euphe- 
mism = alvum exonerare. 2.232. 
Cf. note. 

Poesie, n. -j-A motto or sentimen- 
tal conceit engraved on a ring. 
5- 340. 

Point, n, -}-A lace with Ugs at 
the ends used in fastening clothes 
together. 4. 12. Cf. note. 

Portigo, n, Portugal, i. 252. 

Post, adv. (An elliptical use of 
post^ n.) With post-horses ; by 
post Arch, 3. 410. 

Pottle, n. -}-A liquid measure of 
two quarts; a pot. 5. 396. 

Poudred beef, phr. Salted beef. 
4. 105. 

Prentice, n. By aphsere&is from 
apprentice, I. 2, et passim. 

Presence, n. Personality, i. 33. 

Present, v. fTo represent; per- 
sonate ; act Ind. 29 ; 4. 438. 

Present, a. -f*Quick ; immediate. 
I. 481. 

Presently, adv. Straightway, im- 
mediately. Obs. or dial. 4. 345. 

Prest, a. fReady. 2. 187. 

Prethee, v. A corruption oi pray 
thee = I pray thee. Arch. I. 59, 
et passim. 

Pretty, a. fi. Clever ; shrewd. 

1. 100; 2. 412 ; 4. 223. 

2. Foppish ; finical ? -{-Strong and 
bold ; valiant ; here, ironical ? 2. 

3. An epithet of endearment 3. 15. 

4. Pleasing to the eye. 3. 305. 

5. Interesting ; entertaining. 3. 

467 ; 5. 355. 

Prick, V, I. To ride rapidly; spur 
on ; speed. Arch. I. 313. 
2. To spur ; incite ; impel. 5. 323. 


The Knight of the Burning Pestle 

-{-Priokant, a, i. Pricking : errant, 
traveling. 2. 302. 
2. Pricking : pointing upward. 3. 

Prickety n, A buck in his second 
year. 4. 469. 

Pxincely, a. Of the rank of a 
prince; regal. 4. 131. 

Priuate, a, i. Particular; individ- 
ual ; special : opposed to general. 
Ind. 133. 

2. -{-Privy ; informed of what is 
not generally known. I. 30. 

Procure, v. To contrive and effect ; 
cause. I. 280. 

Promiae, v. To assure. Colloq, 
I. 418. 

Proper, a. Good-looking. Now 
only provincial, 4. 148. 

Prosper, v. To bring prosperity 
to. 3. 385. 

Proue, V. -j-To experience by per- 
sonal trial ; to enjoy or suffer. 

1. 41 ; 3- 41. 

2. To demonstrate. 2. 266. 
-j-Poggy, n, A term of familiarity 

or endearment 3. 569. 
Purtray, v, Obs, form oi portray, 
I. 294. 

Quandary, n, -}-A ticklish plight 

1. 189. 

duarrel, n. Cause of grievance or 

complaint Now rare, Dcd. 
auell, V. f To kill. Obs. or rare, 

3- 251. 
duest, n, I. Search or pursuit, 
made in order to find or obtain 
something, i. 254. 

2. An expedition with some ex- 
ploit as its object, as in mediae- 
val romance. Obs. exc. poet, 2. 

Rabbet, n. Obs. form of rabbit. 

I; 137- 
Raisoii, ft, Obs. form of raisin. 

5. 320. 
Bapb (or) Bafe, n. Obs. or dial, 

form of Ralph, To the Readers, 

ct passim. 

Hare, a. i. Splendid, fine. U 
colloq, use applied to comparttiTe- 
ly trivial objects. Ind. 62. 
2. Unusual. 4. 21. 

Baecal, n. -f-A young, lean, or inferi- 
or deer, as diistinguiahed from the 
full-grown antlered buck. 4. 46S. 

Beasonable, f<u#v. Fairly; to a 
reasonable degree. 4. 436. 

Reave, v. To take away. Obs. 
or arch, I. 476. 

Bebeck, n. Now onlyAtf/.or/M/. 
A mediaeval instrument of music, 
having three strings and pla^td 
with a bow. I. 482. 

Secant, v. -f-To renounce, abjure 
(a course of Kfe or conduct) u 
wrong or mistaken. 3. 506. 

Seckoningy n. A bill of charges, 
esp, at an inn or tavern. 3. 156. 

Befraine, v. -f-i. To restrain, curb. 

1. 29. 

f 2. To withhold, defer. 3. 317. 
Belieue, v, i. To rescue out of 
some trouble, difficulty or danger, 
Now somewhat rare. Ded. I. 
320, 331 ; 2. 121. 139. 

2. To free, release. Now rare. 
3- 442. 

Bemembred. pp. -f-Brought to 

mind. Ind. 68. 
f Beparrell, n. Clothing, apparel 

Ind. 70, 73. 
Bepose, 97. -j-Peaceofmind. Bare. 

2. 231. 
Repute, V. -f-To esteem, hold in 

repute. 2. 315. 
Besolued, ppl, a. -f-Made ready io 

mind ; prepared. 5. 169. 
Beuel, V. To indulge in boisteroos 

festivities ; carouse. 4. 1 95. 
Kiband, n. An obs, or arch, form 

of ribbon, 3. 416 ; 4. 305. 
Biffe Baffe, n. Rubbish ; twaddle. 

I. 492. 
Bigbt. adzf. Very ; in a great degree. 

Arch, or colloq. I. 271, 301,317, 

326; 2. 2, 418; 3. 157. 
Bigbt, a. Genuine ; true. Obs. or 

arch. I. 345. 
Binkle, n. Obs, form of wrinkle. 

5. 189. 



Sude, a. Rough ; harsh-sounding ? 

Obs.f 5. 165. 
Sudenets, n. f Coarseness. Prol. 
Buggedly, a. Roughly. 3. 255. 

a, -J-i. Weighty ; important ; 

momentous. 3. 233 ; 4. 81. 

2. Disastrous. 3. 359. 

-{'3. Dark ; somber : applied to 

color. 3. 390, 478; 4. 314. 

4. Distressing ; grievous ; fearful. 

5- 28. 
Sate, V, An obs, or arch, preterite 

of sit, I. 144. 
Satisfie, v, -{*i. To make repara- 
tions or amends for : atone for ; 

expiate. 3. 98. 

-|-2. To make amends to. Obs. 

4. 296 ; 5. 32, 35. 

SattoXL, a, Obs, form of satin. 

5. 367. 

Sauce-box, n. A saucy, impudent 
person. Collcq. 3. 579. 

Sailing your presence, >Ar. Dial. 
An expression of apology : ' with 
all due respect to you.' 2. 199. 

fScape, V. To escape. 4. 339. 

Scorch^ V, Obs. form of scotch. 
To score or mark with slight in- 
cisions ; cut, hack. 3. 428. Cf. 

Score, V. To cut, slash. 3. 428. 

Scomeyir. Mockery; derision. 2.553. 

Scoure, v. To sweep clear ; rid ; 
cleanse thoroughly. 5. 174. 

fScotiring-eticke, n. A rod used 
for cleaning the barrel of a gun ; 
sometimes the ramrod, sometimes 
a different implement. 5. 85. 

Sculler, n. One who propels a 
boat with a scull-oar. 2. 385. 

Scuruily, adv. -j-i. Vulgarly. 2. 


•j-2. Meanly ; shabbily. 3. 577. 

Scuruy, a. \i. Offensive, obnox- 
ious. I. 274. 

\2. Worthless ; contemptible ; 
shabby. 2. J73. 

Second, w. t^id, help. 4. 346. 

Serue, v. "j-To act as servant. 4. 

Sendee, n. The performance of 

military duties ; here, spec.^ the 
drill. 5. 81. 
fSeruingman, n. A male servant. 

4. 378. 

fSet on before, phr. To begin, 
or head off, a march. 3. 291. 

Set out, phr. I. To display, pre- 
sent. Ind. 97. 
2. To place or plant firmly. 3. 


Shannot, v. For sha' not, an obs. 
contraction of shall not. 4. 415. 

-|*Shawme, n. A musical instru- 
ment of the oboe class, having a 
double reed inclosed in a globu- 
lar mouthpiece. Ind. iii. 

fShawne, n. Form of shawms. 
Ind. 112, 115. 

Shew, V. An arch, form oi show. 
I. 192. 

Shiled« w. Vorm o{ shield. 1.294. 

Shrinke vp, phr. To cause to 
contract. 3. 13. 

Shrodly, adv. Obs. form of shrewdly. 
•j-Scverely. 2. 365. 

Shutting, n. The close ; the shut- 
ting-time. Arch, f 2. 16. 

Sing another song, phr. To 
modify one's tone or manner, espe- 
cially with humility or submissive- 
ness. CoUoq. 2. 32. 

Sirrah, n. Obs. or arch. A word 
of address generally equivalent to 
" fellow," or *' sir," and applied 
with an angry, a contemptuous, 
a hasty, or a playful force, i. 
I ; 2. 286: 3. 123; 4. 157. 

Situate, ppl. a. Arch. Situated, 
located. 2. 29. 

Slicke, V. Form of sUek. To 
make smooth and glossy ; to * rub 
down.' 2. 409. 

fSmell to, phr. To inhale a smell 
or odor as a gratification, or as 
a test of kind or quality. 3. 

Smoake, v. fTo suffer. I. 223. 

Smoth, a. Obs. form of smooth. 

5. 383. 

'f'Gblicke-vp, v. •[•Phr., go snicke- 
up: go hang (oneself), go and 
be hanged. 2. 87 ; 3. 195. 


The Knight of the Burning Pestle 

Sodden, ppl. a. Bloated ; soaked 
or saturated, as with drink ; hence 
heavy, stupid. 5. 153. 

fSoft and fiair, pkr. Without 
haste or violence. 5. 151. 

Soop, V. Form of swoop : cf. va- 
riants. To take with a sweep. 
The verb soop^ meaning to sTvtep^ 
is still current in Scotland. 3. 

SopAiy, n. Shah of Persia. 4. 44. 

Sort, n. I. Manner; fashion; way. 

2- 30; 4. 451. 

•{•2. A company, set, troop. 5. 

Sound, V. To cause something 

(i. e. a basin) to sound. 3. 344. 
Soueraigne, a. Efficacious in the 

highest degree : said especially of 

medicinal remedies. 3. 217. 
Sower, a. Obs. form of sour. 

-{-Disagreeable to the feelings. 

Spaniels, n. Humourous mistake 

for Spantards. 2. 81. Cf. note. 
Sparke, n, A sprightly and showy 

man. 5. 80. 
Speede, n. Successful issue ; good 

fortune, i. 47. 
Sport, n. -{-Dramatic entertainment. 

Sprigrge, n. I. A shoot, young- 
ster ; implying disparagement. 4. 


2. Without deprecatory sense. 5. 


Spring, V. -j-To breed, generate, 
bring forth, i. 209. 

-j-Springald, n. A young man. 
2. 350. 

Squire, n. i. An attendant on a 
knight or lady. i. 262, et passim. 
-j-2. Phr., squire 0/ damsels : transf. 
from the Faerie Queen^ and ap- 
plied to any man who is very at- 
tentive to women. 2. 184. Cf. 

Staffe, n. The long handle of a 
spear or similar weapon. -j-Phr., 
to break a staffe: to enter the 
lists with an opponent ; make a 
trial of skill. Ded. 

Stand, n. Phr., a standi : a halt 1 
Milit. command. 5. 108. 

Stand, V. In the imperative: halt I 
MiUt. 5. 138, 153. 

Staple, n. A general market or 
exchange ; now chiefly attrib.^ as 
in staple article. I. 7. 

-{-Starting, vbl. n. A sudden in- 
voluntary movement, as from t 
shock of fear, &c. 3. 54. 

State, n. -{-Estate ; income ; pos- 
sessions. I. 391. 

Stay, V. -{-To await 3. 122. 

StilL adv. -{-Always, continually, 
habitually. Ind. 10; 4. 378. 

Stocke. n. I . Funds ; hoardings. 
I. 23, 366. 
-{-2. Share; portion. I. 417. 

Stone, n. -{-A gun-flint; a piece 
of shaped flint fixed in the lock 
of a musket, before percussion 
caps were used, to fire the charge. 

5. 145. 
Stoope, n. A deep and narrow 

drinking vessel. Obs.oxdial. 5.190. 
Stop. V. I . To suppress ; extinguish. 

1. 28. 

f 2 . To keep back ; withhold. 5 . 1 50. 

Store, n. I . Abundance ; numbers. 
Arch. 4- 271 ; 5- '• 

CKreight, a. Obs. form of straight. 
-{-Stretched; tight 2. 104. 

Strike stroke, phr. To have a 
hand, have a say. Fig. 4. 414. 

Stringer, n. -{-A fornicator ; a 
wencher. i. 116. 

Stroake, v. Obs. form of the pret- 
erite of strike. I. 242. 

Strond, n. Obs. form of Strand. 
4. 91. 

Strong, \adv. Strongly. 3. 77. 

Study for, phr. To plan, devise. 
Ind. 20. 

Sufficient, a. Capable? f Reli- 
able? 2. 176. 

Sute, V. Obs. form of shoot, i. 164. 

Swaddle, v. fTo beat; cudgel. 

2. 458. 

Sweare, v. An obs. or arch, pret- 
erite of swear. 2. 50, 55. 

f Sweeting, n. A term of endear- 
ment I. 456. 



Swin^, V. Obs. fonn of swinge. 

To thrash, beat 2. 285. 
Swome, a. Vhr.^ be sworn ; bound 

by oath. Colloq. Ind. 73, et 


Taber, n. Obs. form of tabor. 

-{*A small drum or tambourine 

(without jingles). 4. 487. 
Take, v. To take the place of; 

displace ? Obs. f 5. 84. Cf. note. 
Take it, phr. • To give way, ac- 
quiesce.* Moorman. 3. 25. 
Take thy course, phr. Go on 

thy way. 3. 201. 
fTake (me) with (you),/Ar. Hear 

me out, understand me fully, i. 

Tane. v. Obs. form of ta*en for 

taken^ pp. of take. 3. 158. 
Tartarian, n. fA cant term for 

* thief.' 3. 586. 
Tax, «. -jKiarge ; censure. Ind. 

Tearme, n. Obs. form of term. 

2. 332. 

Tee, pron. Cf. variants. Ind. 44 ; 

4. 70, 75. 
Tell, V. f I. Phr., tell (one) true ; 

to tell (one) the truth. Ind. 73 ; 

3. 312. 

2. To count; reckon one after 
another. *Arch. exc. in phrases 
such as " to tell beads." * Mal- 
lory. 3. 12. 

Temper, n. i. Mixture or combi- 
nation of ingredients. 2. 337. 
•f-2. Temperament. 3. 71. 

Tender, v. f i. To treat with so- 
licitude and care. 3. 169. 

Tender, a. "{"Fine; hence, gravelly. 

4. 462. 

Terror, ». A cause of terror; 
often used in humorous exagger- 
ation. 5. III. 

Then, conj. Obs. form of than. 
Ind. 116, et passim. 

fThen so, phr. Than something 
indicated or signified ; than that. 

5- 392. 
Thether, adv. Obs. form of thither. 
4. 396. 

Thiefe, n. -f-A general term of re- 
proach : a lawless person. Ind. 

fThrumming of our caps, phr. 
Setting tufts or thrums on a cap. 

4. 483. Cf. note. 

Ti'de, V. Obs. preterite of tie. i. 8. 
Tiller, n. fA crossbow, i. 144. 
Timber for timber, phr. Limb 

for limb ; man for man. Fig. 

2. 219. 
To, prep. fi. Of; for. i. 27; 

Ded. (i. e. to good wits). 

•j-2. Toward. 2. 33. 

•-3. With. 2. 236. 

••4. For. 3. 468, 594; 4. 375. 

5. Against. 3. 295. 
f 6. Before. 4. 438. 

Together, adv. 1. All at once; 

simultaneously. 3. 64. Cf. note. 

f2. Altogether. 4. 252. Cf. 

To her, phr. Speak to her ; make 

your addresses to her. i. 123. 
To him, phr. Fall upon him ; 

' go for him.' 3. 371. 
Tooke, V. Obs. or vulgar pp. of 

take. 3. 58. 
Train, v. To entice ; draw by de- 
ceptive means. Arch. 3. 412. 
Trauell, n. f i. Labor, i. 43- 

2. Labor in childbirth. Arch. 

2. 487. 
Tree, n. fStick, staflf. i. 211. 
Tricke, n. A crafty or fraudulent 

device; a stratagem. I. 70; 4. 


Tride, v. Obs. form of tried. 3. 

Troth, n. Phr., bjf my troth: upon 

my honor, veracity. Now chiefly 

///. I. 284, et passim. 
Troule, v. Obs. form of troll. 

'Vo pass or send round a vessel 

of liquor. 2. 485. 
True, a. I. Sure, unerring, i. 


2. Honest. Arch. i. 335 ; 2. 

3. Faithful. 2. 41 ; 5. ii. 
Tru-love, n. A sweetheart. 2. 



The Knight of the Burning Pestle 

Truely, adv. In accordance with 
assumed obligations ; faithfully. 

4. 361. 
Trusty, a. i. Strong; firm. i. 211. 

2. Faithful. 1. 291, 332 ; 2. 112, 

127 ; 3. 424. 
Try, V. To put to the test or proof. 

3- 79. 

Tone, ». I. Mood, frame of mind. 

4- 360. 
Tweluemonetll, ff. A year. Arch. 

Ind. 58. 
'Twixt. prep. Abbrev. of betwixt 
= between. Arch. 4. 106. 

TJnoiTill, a. -{-Of apparel : lacking 
in taste ; gaudy ; immodest. Prol. 

tVnourteous, a. Discourteous, 
uncivil. 2. 121, 332. 

VndergtaTidiTig. ppl. a. Informed; 
intelligent. Ind. 27. 

Vndo, V. To bring ruin or distress 
upon. 4. 193 ; 5. 44. 

Vnfomialied, ppi. a. f Unprovid- 
ed. I. 290. 

Vnhappy, a. fi. Full of tricks; 
mischievous; tricksy. 2. 288. 
2. Associated with ill fortune. 3. 

Vnkind, a. Lacking in affection. 
/iare. exc. diat. 4. 288. 

Vnknowing, ppi. a. Ignorant. 

3- 355- 

Vnpeopled,///. a. Without inhab- 
itants. 3. 6. 

Vntlirift, n. fA spendthrift; a 
prodigal. 4. 155. 

Vnthrifty, a. Wasteful ; prodigiJ. 
2. 169. 

Vrge, V. To press upon the at- 
tention. 2. 448. 

Vsage, ff. Treatment. 3.431,478. 

Vsher, n. Escort, conductor. 4. 

Vale, mterj. Farewell ; adieu. 
fForm for the ending of a letter 
or other written address. Prol. 

Valiant, a. i . Courageous ; intrep- 
id in danger, i. 153. 
f2. Strong; powerful. 5. 168. 

Vamp, 2'. To furnish with a new 

vamp or upper leather, as 1 shoe 
or boot Arch, and d*al. 5. 323. 

Varlet, n. A low fellow ; a scoun- 
drel : a term of contempt or re- 
proach. 3. 103. 

Venter, v. Obs. form of venhar. 
I. 216, et passim. 

Venture, if. f Adventure. 2. 316. 

Venus, n. fSexual intercourse; 
vcnery. 4. 435. 

Vertue, n. i. Potency; efficacy. 

1. 47. 

2. Phr., by the virtue of: by or 
through the authority of. 3. 188. 

Vicious, a. Virulent; malignant ; 
spitefnl. CoUoq. Ind. 134. 

Villainy, n. i. Atrocious evil or 
wickedness. 3. 87. 
2. A villainous act; a crime. 3. 
264, 286. 

Visited, ppl. a. Afflicted ; said es- 
pecially of diseases, i. 279. 

Wag. n. fA practical joker; one 
who indulges in buffoonery or mis- 
chief. 2. 19; 5. 288. 

Wait, n. fOne of a body of mu- 
sicians, who played about the 
streets at night, especially in the 
seventeenth century, in England. 
Ind. 119. 

fWanion, n. A word found only 
in the phrases with a 7»anwn^ 
and wanions on you ; generally 
interpreted to denote some kind 
of imprecation. Phr., with a wan- 
ion : with a vengeance ; energet- 
ically ; hence in short order. 2. 


Want, V. To fail in. 5. 185. 

Ward, n. fA regiment or other 
division of an army. 5. 9i- 

Warren, n. A piece of ground 
appropriated to the breeding and 
preservation of rabbits and other 
game. i. 134. 

tWast(e)-th]ift, n. A spendthrift. 
I. 350. 

Watch, n. fi. The annual vigil 
of St. John's. I. 155. Cf. note. 
•j-2. A watchman, or body of watch- 
men, stationed in old London, to 



guard public property and the 
peace. 3. 100. 
3. A vigil. 3. 23. 

WAtching, vbl. n. Keeping vigil. 
3. 84. 

Wee, prep, 06s. form of wt' = 
wt'tk, Cf. variants. 2. 538. 

Welfauourdlie, adv. In a grati- 
fying or pleasing way ; * handsome- 
ly.' 2. 285. 

Weli a. Well off. 4. 436. 

Well spoken, a. Given to using 
decorous speech. I>tdl. i. 267. 

Wench, n. A young woman. Arch. 
or lit. The word as current now 
has a deprecatory sense, i. 303, 
tt passim. 

Were, v. Obs. form of wear, 3. 

When al'e done, phr. After all. 

Duti. 5. 249. 
Whether, adv. An obs. form of 

whither. 1. 315; 3. 390. 
Whether, pron. Arch. Which. 

I. 138. 
Whilome, adv. Arch. Once, i . 1 3 7 . 
Whipt, ppl. a. Overlaid ; wound 

round and round, as with thread. 

I. 163. 
Whistle, n. Phr., to wet (one'sj 

whistle : to take a drink of liquor 

with reference to wetting the 

throat and vocal organs in order 

to improve the tone of the voice. 

Colloq. znd jocose. 5. 192. 
White boy, n. f An old term of 

endearment applied to a favorite 

son, or the like ; a darling. 2. 

fWhoreson, a. Bastard-like; low: 
used in contempt or coarse famil- 

iarity. I. 116; 2. 574; 3. 323: 
whoresome, i. 322 ; whoor sonne 

1. 371. 

Wich, pron. Form of which. 5.23. 

Wight, n. Mortal ; a human being. 
Obs. or arch. 3. 355, 476. 

Willing, a. f Harmonious ; like- 
minded. 4. 478. 

Wise, n. Manner ; mode ; guise. 
Obs. or arch. exc. in phrases like 
in any wise, &c. 3. 4II ; 5. 324. 

Withall, adv. Besides; likewise. 
Ded.; 1.77, 118; 4. 238. 

"fWithall, prep. An emphatic form 
of with^ used after the object (usu- 
ally a relative) at the end of a 
sentence or clause. 4. 12. 

Woeman, n. Obs. form of woman. 

2. 486, et passim. 

fWon, V. To dwell. 3. 256. 
Wood, V. Obs. form of preterite 

of will. 2. 586. 
Wrestle, v. Obs. or dial, form of 

wrestle. 3. 296. 
Wrought, ppL a. Embroidered. 

Arch, f 2. 422. 

Ydeped, pp. Form of past par- 
ticiple of the obs. or arch, verb 
c/epe : to call by the name of 

3. 257. 

Yea, adv. fYea, being mainly a 
word of assent, was formerly used 
chiefiy in answer to questions 
framed affirmatively. Ind. 16. 

Yeeld, v. Obs. form of yield. 
fTo repay, i. 119; 4. 164. 

Yer, pron. Dial, form of your. 

2. 539. 
Yong, a. Obs. form of young. 
I. 217, et passim. 


Adam Bell^ Ixix, Ixxiv, Ixxvi. 

Amadis of Gaul^ relations to the 
burlesque in K*of B. /*., xxxvii, 
xlixfF., Ivi, Ixviii, Ixix, Ixxii, Ixxiii ; 
origin of, 162 ; cited, 145, 163, 
166, 171, 172, 191, 204, 206. 

Apparel, actors', 122 ; soldiers', 251. 

Apron, blue, of tradesmen, 146. 

Archery, practice of, 267. 

Arches, court of, 220. 

Arthur's show, ex, 225, 253. 

Artillery Gardens, practice of arms 
revived in, xiii, cxii, 225. 

As ye came from the Holy Land^ 
a ballad, 181. 

Authorship of the play, xxi ff. 


Baloo^ a ballad, 184. 

Barbaroso, 195. 

Barber's basin, xlv, 195, 196. 

Barber's pole, 195, 204. 

Barber shop, description of the old- 
time, 214. 

Bear, pestilential effect of the breath 
of the, 273. 

Beaten gold, 224. 

Beaumont and Fletcher, their indebt- 
edness to Spanish literature, xxxiii ; 
their literary qualities, xxii ff. ; for 
citations, cf. individual works. 
Coxcomb^ &c. 

Beer at the theatre, 218. 

Beeston's Boys, xviii. 

Begone, begone, myjuggy, mypuggy, 
a song, 216. 

Bell Inn, xl ff., 174. 

Bells in the Morris-dance, 244. 

Bevis of Hampton, Ixix, Ixx, Ixxvi, 
Ixxx, 188. 

Blackfriars Theatre, xiv, 122. 

Blanket- tossing, 135. 

Bold Beauckamps, Ixxxi, Ixxxii, 12a 

Boot-hose, 228. 

Boots, affectation of wearing polished, 

Boy, as attendant at theatre, Iti; 
as a regular actor, 121 ; as a 
dancer between the acts, 155. 

Boy-actors, kidnapping of, 166. 

Brionella, 163. 

Brome, Richard, his mention of Kn. 
of B, P. VEL Sparagus Garden, 
xvii ; his ridicule of the fadiion 
of romance-reading, Ixxiii, Ixxix ; 
his satirical treatment of the man- 
ners of theatrical spectators, in 
The Antipodes^ cvii. 

Bullets, a term for barber*s soap- 
balls, 197. 

Bumbo Fair, 230. 

Burre, Walter, xiv, xxiv, 106, 107. 

Butter, as an unguent, 228 ; as a 
medicinal remedy, 242. 

Candles, blue, at funerals, 233. 
Captain, City, 266. 
Captain, duties of a, 256, 259, 261. 
Carduus Benedictus as a medicinal 

remedy, ex, 202. 
Casket, adventures of the, xxxix, 

Catch, nature of a, 180. 
Caves as habitations of giants, xlix ff., 


Chamberlain at an inn, 175. 

Chapman, George, his satire on the 
fashion of romance-reading in East- 
ward Ho, xciii. 

Children of the Queen's Revels, xiv, 
no, 122. 

Chivalric plays, lists of, Ixxviii, Ixxxi ; 
quality and popularity of, Ixxviiiff. ; 



praCcits Of 

satnirts a^aiait, IxxxvnC ; atlarfcs 

of tkc dmaatnls apoa, Izzzixf: 
GtizcBS, tbdr Btorapdoas of pl^a, 

criff., 1 10 ; libclot ita^ repvc- 

inrtatiftna di, dr. 112. 
Qty walls, 109. 
Otic diama, naluicandrepfrytJtuc 

spedmcBS o<^ acvC 
Qoak-bag, 254. 
Cockpit TVatre, zvi. 271. 
Colon of tkc iafiuHy, 254; rcsa* 

latSoos coiirmriBg tkc ase of^ 255. 
Commoos of tkc 0%, 117. 
Compaaia of Londoa, tkc Twelve, 

114, 166. 
Cooqiany, r o naitfiiry of a mOttaiy, 

Complimeiit, langnage o<^ 231. 
Conduit, 236. 
Coojnien, 233. 
Condct, 257. 
Coxcomh^ cited, 161, 178. 
CracoTia, Kiag of, 233. 
Crane, agn of tlie, 106. 
Crier, town, 173. 
Cupids Revenge^ dted, 201. 
Curtain, lack of^ on old stage, i84f. 
Curtain Theatre, zi. 
Cypress branches at funerals, 232. 

Dagonet, Sir. 224, 253. 

Dam, the deril's, 169. 

Day, Rowlej, and WiUdns, Travailes 
of the Three English Brothers^ 
its bearing on the date of Kn, of 
B. P,j zi ; its relationship to 
the burlesque in Kn. of B, /*., 

Deed indent, 227. 

Defiance, mode of, in romances of 
chivalry, 171. 

Dekker, Thos., his attacks on the 
romances, xciv. 

Devil's mark on witches, 211. 

Diet as a medicinal remedy, 136, 
168, 211, 213. 

Dog, possession of, a mark of a 
gentleman, 216. 

Don Quixote, its bearing on the date 

of li. of B, P^ Tt\ ^^ attri* 
batioa o^ as a soorce of Km. <y 
B. P.^ zzziiff. ; dted, 105, 107, 
144, 148, 149, 150* IS«. 161, 
171, 189, 190, 191. 1^ 195. 
203, 204. 207. 

Douglas Tragedy^ a ballad, 182, 

Dnk^HHwatcr, 147. 

Drake, the life and death of &t, 117. 

Dnunmer, 253. 

Drums, 246, 249. 

Dryden, John, his comment on the 
p<^u]arity of Beaumont and Flet- 
cher, ziz. 

Duldnea dd Toboao, the attributed 
prototype of Susan. livflT., 203. 

Dutchman, the great, 198. 

Dwarf as an attendant upon knights, 
zzzvii, 148 ; as bearer of the 
knights* armor, 192. 

Elenor, Queen, the story of, xcix, 116, 
Entertainment at inns, 177. 

Fading, 219. 

Fair Margaret and Sweet William, 
a ballad, 178. 

Faithful Friends^ its satire on the 
fashion of romance-reading, xciv. 

Feuthful Shepherdess, its unpopu- 
larity, dz. 

Falconer, 234. 

Favor, lady's, 228. 

Feathers, 237, 257. 

Fencing-school, ex. 172. 

Fingers, barber's * knacking ' of, 197. 

Fire-eaters, 220. 

Flags, 249. 

Footmsm, 176. 

Forked heads, 268. 

Fortune, my Foe, a song, 264. 

Four Plays in One, zziii ; cited, 152. 

Four Prentices of London. Cf. Hey- 

Franarco, Palmerin de Oliva's con- 
flict with, i4ofr. 

Freeman, qualifications of a, 1 14. 


The Knight of the Burning Pestle 

Gallants seated on the stage, ciii, 
lo8 ; their aversion to the combing 
of the hair, 196 ; their feishion of 
trimming the beard and dressing 
the hair, 208 ; their aversion to 
shorn locks, 209 ; their scorn of 
the tradesmen, 213, 270. 

Galley-foist, captain of Uie, 262. 

Gargantua, 205. 

Garters, 245. 

Gaskins, 161. 

Giants, conventional employment of, 
in romances of chivalry, xliz, 161 ; 
Palmerin de Oliva's conflict with, 
I40ff., 198 ; Rosicler's conflict 
with, 197 ; boastful manner of, 

Gloves given as presents at betrothals 
and weddings, 134 ; decorations 
of, 134; costs of, 135. 

Go frofn my window^ a catch, 215. 

God of sleep, 187. 

Gresham, Life and Death of Sir 
Thomas, xcv, xcvii, 115. 

Grocers, civic importance of, Ii4f. ; 
guild livery of, 127 ; shop dress 
of, 139 ; hall of, 269. 

Gun-flint, 258. 

Guns, 246, 249. 

Guy of Warwick^ Ixix, Ixxii, Ixxiii, 
Ixxvi, Ixxxi. 


Heads, velvet, 244. 

Helmet, 172. 

Her Majesty's Servants, xvii, xviii, 

Hermaphrodite, xiii, 200. 

Heywood, Thos., The Four Prentices 
of London^ as an evidence of the 
date of Kn. of B, /*,, xiii; as an 
object of the burlesque, lixff., 117, 
149 ; as a type of the chivalric 
drama, Ixxxii ; analysis of its plot, 
Ixxxii ff. ; as tjrpical of the taste of 
tradesmen, xcvi ; cited, 117, 149, 
163, 225 ; If you know not me^ 
xcv, xcvii, 115 ; Edward IVy xcv, 
xcviii, 120. 

Hot ho^ no body at home, a catch, 235. 

Hobby-horse, 241. 

Hogsdon, 245. 

Honest Man's Fortune, dted, 271. 

Honour of a London Apprentice, t 

ballad, a possible object of the 

burslesque, Ixi, it 8. 
Horace, 105, 274. 
Host, proveii>ial merriment of mine, 

Hostess, kissing of, on leaving an ino, 

Hotspur, lines from speech of, 123. 
Humorous Lieutenant^ dted, 228, 243. 

lam three merry men^ a catch, 178. 


fane Shore, xcv, xcviii, 120. 

Jerkin, 251. 

Jeronimo, 125. 

Jillian of Berry, 235. 

fohn Dory, a ballad, 168. 

Jonson, Ben, Alchemist, as an evi- 
dence of the date oiJKn. of B, P. ; 
his satirical treatment of the Rth 
mances of chzTfalry and the ro- 
mantic drama, xci ff. ; his satir- 
ical treatment of Jacobean audi- 
ences, cviii. 


Keysar, Robert, xiv, xv, 106. 

King and No King, its burlesque 
elements, xii, xxx ; cited, 152, 206. 

Knight and Shepherd's Daughter, 
a ballad, 182. 

Knights-errant, names of, 149 ; order 
of, 151 ; vows and oaths of, 162 ; 
duties of, 165 ; numerous frater- 
nities and religious character oi, 
175; fastings of, 194; hard 
couches of, 194. 

Knight of the Burning Pestle, edi- 
tions, iiff. ; date and stage-history, 
xiff. ; authorship, xxi ff., 106, 
107, 270, 272, 274 ; origixiality of 
the conception, xxv ; relationships 
with iht Romances of Chivalry and 
Don Quixote, xxxii ff. ; relation- 
ships with contemporary plays and 



ballads, lix ff. ; objects of the bur- 
lesque and satire, Izv ff. ; attrib- 
uted origins of the title, 105 ; 
functional significance of the title, 

Knighthood, mode of receiving the 

order of, 190. 
Knighthoods, purchased, 145. 
Knotgrass, 161. 
Kyd, Thos., Spanish Tragedy as an 

object of the burlesque, c ff., 239, 


Lachrimae^ a tune, 184. 

Ladies, relief of, in the romances, 

xxxix, 145 ; flight of, from * uncur- 

teous knights,* &c., 162. 
Lady Anne BothweWs Lamentation, 

a ballad, 184. 
Lady-loves of knights-errant, 20J ; 

invocation of, liii, 203, 206. 
Lancelot of the Lake, Ixiz, Izzii. 
Laneham's Letter, Izx. 
Lavolta, 217. 

Legend of Sir Guy, a ballad, 183. 
Leonhardt, Ober Beaumont und Flet- 
cher's Knight of the Burning 

Pestle, XXXV ff. 
Lies, 230. 

Lieutenant, duties of a, 254. 
Little French Lawyer, cited, 183. 
Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard, 

a ballad, 263. 
Lob-lic-by-the-fire, 212. 
London Bridge, 180. 
London Merchant, 112. 


Maid's Tragedy, its burlesque ele- 
ments, xii, XXX ; its long-lived 
popularity, xx. 

Manners of Jacobean audiences, 
cii ff. ; Gayton*s description of, 
cvi ; the dramatists* satirical treat- 
ment of, cviiff. 

March beer, 262. 

Mare*s milk as a medicinal remedy, 
ex, 202. 

Marston, John, Antonio and Mellida, 
as a possible source of the casket 

episode in Kn. of B. P. Ixiii ; his 

attacks on the romances, xciv. 
Martial Court, 258. 
May-game, cxi, 235. 
May-lord, 240. 
May-song, typical, 240. 
Meals, hours for, 153. 
Medicine, domestic, 191. 
Merry heart lives long-a, a song, 

Middleton, Thomas, Mayor of Queen- 

borough, its satirical treatment 

of the manners of theatrical spec- 
tators, cvii. 
Midsummer Watch, 133. 
Mile-end, 158; military drills at, 

cxi, 250. 
Military commands, peculiar, 254, 

259, 360. 
Mirror of Knighthood, Ixviii, Ixix, 

143, 144, 161, 197. 
Mithridatum, 147. 
Moldavia, kingdom of, 225 ; Prince 

of, xii, 225. 
Monkester, Richard, 132. 
Monsieur Thomas, cited, 158, 165, 

Moorfields, 268. 
Morris-dance, 238. 
Morris-dancers, dress of, 237. 
Morte d' Arthur, Ixvii, Ixix. 
Mouse's skin as a medicinal remedy, 

ex, 192. 
Mucedorus, xcix, 124. 
Munday, Anthony, his translations of 

the Romances of Chivalry, Ixviii, 

140, 146, 162. 
Music at the theatre, 128, 155. 


Napkins in the Morris-dance, 244. 

Nash, Thos., his ridicule of the ro- 
mances in The Anatomie of Ah- 
surditie, Ixxxviii ; his use of the 
spectator motive in Summer's 
Last Will and Testament, cvii. 

Nell Gwyn, xix. 

Newington, 245. 

Nice Valour, cited, 271. 

Night-caps, 168. 

Nineveh, a * motion,' 200. 



The Knight of the Burning Pestle 

Nipitato, 227. 
Nor so, 135. 

Nose^ nose^ joUy red nase^ a ballad, 

Oaths, fashion of swearing diminutive, 


' Open jTour files,* 256. 
Orange, Prince of, 218. 
Ostler, tricks of the, 176. 

Pagans, knights* aversion to, Hii, 

Painted cloth, 184. 

Palfirej, 150, 176. 

PalUdino of England^ Ixviii. 

PalmendQS^ Ixviii. 

Pahnerin de Olrua^ relations to the 
burlesque in Kn, of B, P., xxxvii, 
xxxix. Hi ff., Ivi, Ixviii, Ixix, Ixxiv ; 
origin of 140; cited, 140, 150, 
163. 189, 193. 198. 223, 226, 

Palmerin of England^ relations to 
the burlesque in Kn. of B, /*., 
xlvii, xlix, Ivi, Ixviii, Ixix ; origin 
of, 146 ; cited, 145, 151, i6t, 170, 
193. 194, 195. 203, 224, 226. 

Passage, keeping the, in the roman- 
ces, 170. 

Pauls Walk, 249. 

Pepper as the chief commodity of 
the grocers, 151. 

Periwigs, 156. 

PhUasier^ its burlesque elements, xii. 

Philosopher*s stone, 234. 

Pike, 252. 

Pikeman, 252. 

Pilgrim^ cited, 247. 

Pins, 229. 

Plague, the, 148. 

Plasters, velvet, 211. 

Poesies on rings, 266. 

Points, 220. 

Post, traveling by, 218. 

Powder, horn, 258. 

Pox, French, 209. 

Pricket, 244. 

Primaleon of Greece^ Ixviii. 

Prologue, entrance of, 107 ; reprcKit* 
ative character of, 1 10; coadliatofy 
function of, 130. 

Prologue of Q^, 273. 

Puckeridge, 178. 

Puddle wharf, 173. 

Puritans' dislike of the romaaccs aad 
the chivalric drama, IxxzTii. 

Questioning of released prisoners in 
the romances, xlvi £, 207. 

Rafe, 117. 

Ralph Roister Doister^ its analogies 
to Am. ofB. P,^ Ixiii ff. ; cited, Ixzit 

Randolph, Thos., his use of the 
spectator motive in Tke Muse's 
Looking Glass^ cvii. 

Rascal, 244. 

Rebecks, 155. 

Reckonings at inns, 189. 

Red Bull Theatre, xi, xii, 222. 

Red Roaring Lion, a tavern, i$6. 

Rings for the discovery of enchant* 
ments, 172 ; worn in the Morris- 
dsmce and May-games, 237, 266. 

Romances of Chivalry as sonroes of 
Kn, of B, P., and objects of the 
burlesque, xxxii ff. ; extent of their 
popularity in England, Ixvi ; Mil- 
ton's approval of, Ixvii ; Ascham's 
condemnation of, Ixvii ; court so- 
ciety's rejection of, Ixviii ; Munday's 
traxislations of, Ixviii ; bourgeois so- 
ciety's fondness for, Ixix ff. ; menials* 
fondness for, Ixxiv ; mendicant 
minstrels' appropriation of,lxxvi£ ; 
influence of, upon the drama, 
Ixxvii ff. ; reactions against, Ixxxviilt 

Romeo and fuliet^ a possible object 
of the burlesque, 158. 

Rosemary at wedding, 247. 

Rosider, 144, 197. 

Royal Exchange, 116. 

Saint Faith's Church, 249. 
Saint George, 198, 205. 
Scarfe, 237, 245, 251, 266. 
Scenery, absence of, on old stage, 109. 



Scornful Lady ^ ait^^ 133, 139, 220, 


Sergeant, duties of a, 256. 

Serving-man, 234. 

Science, the noble (of defence), 157. 

Shakespeare, analogies to Kn. ofB. P, 
in his plays, Iziii ff. ; his attacks on 
the romances, zciv ; regarded as 
an object of the burlesque, Z23, 158. 

Shirley, James, his ridicule of the 
foshion of romance-reading, Izxvf., 

Shrove Tuesday, apprentices' diver- 
sions on, 213, 268, 269. 

Sights, the citizens' love of unusual, 
ex, 199. 

Sing w€^ and chant t/, a song, 263. 

' Smelling to the toes ' as a medicinal 
remedy, cz, 192. 

Snails used in love-divinations, 243. 

Southwark, 129. 

Spanish pike, 257. 

Spanish Tragedy. Cf. Kyd. 

Squire as an attendant upon knights, 
zzzvif., 148 ; as bearer of the 
knights' armor, 192. 

Squire of Damsels, 164. 

Staff, leading, 267. 

* Stay his coming,* 189. 

Stocking, long, 218. 

Stools on stage, 121. 

Strand, 227. 

Suburbs of London, 157. 

Susan, her attributed relationship with 
Dulcinea del Toboso, livff., 203. 

Sweet oil, 258. 

Sweating-tubs, 211, 213. 

Tabor, 247. 

Tapster, 177. 

Tartarian, 186. 

Tavern-signs, 156, 174. 

Teeth, the barber's strings of, 202. 

Thersytes^ its ridicule of the roman- 
ces, zcff. 

Tiring-house, 126, 151, 251. 

Title-board, 1 1 2. 

Tobacco, new fashion of smoking, 
cz, 138. 

Train bands. City, as an object of 
the burlesque, cziff., 250. 

TravaiUs of the Three English Bro- 
thers. Cf. Day, Rowley, and 

Triumph of Honour^ its burlesque 
elements, xziz. 

Trowl the bowl, a catch, 179. 

Tumblers at the theatre, 220. 

Turnbull Street, 212. 

T^o Noble Kinsmen, cited, 239. 

Valentinian, cited, 147. 

Velvet, black, as a covering for a 

house, 223. 
Vetus Comadia, 374. 
Vows, swearing of, in the romances, 

162, 163, 165, 173, 193- 


WaiU, 128. 

Waltham, xliii, 157, 174. 

Waltham down, 161. 

Waltham Forest, xzxviii, zliii, 136. 

Walsingham, 181. 

Wardens of guilds, presentation of 

plays before, if 5 ; function of, 125. 
Watch at Ludgate, 188. 
Water, perfumed, used by barbers, 

Wedding-dinner, 247. 
Wheel of Fortune, 163. 
Whitechapel, 255. 

Whitcfriars Theatre, ziv, iioff., 121. 
Whittington, the legend of, xcv, 

xcvii, 115. 
Who can sing a merrier note, a 

catch, 233. 
Wife for a Month, cited, 158, 243. 
Wild Goose Chase, cited, 246. 
Wit Without Money, cited, 216, 271. 
Woman Hater, its bearing on the 

date of Kn. of B. P., zi ; ite 

burlesque elements, zii, zziz ; cited, 

108. 153, 202. 
Woman's Prize, 215, 247. 
Women at the theatre, 118, 119. 
Women Pleased, cited, 238, 242, 245, 


Yew tree branches at funerals, 232. 
You are no love for me Margret, 

a lost ballad, 217. 


Page xlix, 1. 3 from bottom for be read he. 

Ixxiii, 1. 13 from bottom ybr bot read both. 

Ixxiv, 1. 17 from bottom y<7r ascurbes read ascribes. 

Ixv, 1. 10 from bottom for droll read droil. 

Ixv, 1. 7 from bottom for the read thee. 

Ixxxviii, 1. 2 1 from bottom for proceeeds read proceeds. 

10, 1. 25 (variants) for woolsaaks read woolsacks. 

18, 1. 136 (variants) ybr face read face,. 

20, 1. 21"^ for Trough read Through. 

22, 1. 2^0 for army read an army. 

30, 1. 20 for forgiue, you read forgiue you. 

82, 1. 361 for it it truely read it truely. 

90, 1. 12<) for Were's read Where's. 

93, 1. 210 (variants) ybr brought recui thee. 

94, 1. 247 for bot read but. 
140, 1. I for exspccted read expected. 
142, 1. 2 from bottom for his fall reeui in his fall. 
165, 1. 26 from bottom for Faere read Faerie. 
I93i 1- 30 from bottom ybr kown read know. 
194, 1. 22 from bottom /<?r but read put. 

275, 1- 30 from bottom for Ascham, Robert read Ascham, Roger. 

276, 1. 36 from bottom for Grossart read Grosart. 

277, 1. 12 from bottom /<7r Cunnigham read Cunningham. 

Albert S. Cook, Editor. 

I. The Foreign Sources of Modem English Versification. 

Charlton M. Lewis, Ph.D. $0.60. 
IL iElfric : A New Study of his Life and Writings. Caroune 
Louisa WnrrE, Ph.D. $1.60. 

III. The Life of St Ceciha, from MS. Ashmole 43 and MS. 

Cotton Tiberius E. VII, with Introduction. Variants, and 
Glossary. Bertha Ellen Lovewell, Ph.D. $1.00. 

IV. Dryden's Dramatic Theory and Practice. Margaret Sher- 

wood, Ph.D. $0.60. 
V. Studies in Jonson's Comedy. Elisabeth Woodbridge, 

Ph.D. $0.60. 
VI. A Glossary of the West Saxon Gospels, Latin-West Saxon 
and West Saxon-Latin. Mattie Anstice Harris, Ph.D. 
Vn. Andreas : The Legend of St Andrew, translated from the 
Old English, with an Introduction. Robert Kilburn 
Root. $0.60. 
Vni. The Classical Mythology of Milton's English Poems. 
Charles Grosvenor Osgood, Ph.D. $1.00. 
IX. A Guide to the Middle English Metrical Romances dealing 
with English and Germanic Legends, and with the 
Cycles of Charlemagne and of Arthur. Anna Hunt 
Billings, PhD. $1.60. 
X. The Earliest Lives of Dante, translated from the Italian of 
Giovanni Boccaccio and Lionardo Bruni Aretino. James 
Robinson Smith. $0.76. 
XL A Study in Epic Development. Irene T. Myers, Ph.D. 

Xn. The Short Story. Henry Seidel Canby. $0.30. 
Xin. King Alfred's Old English Version of St. Augustine's Solilo- 
quies, edited with Introduction, Notes, and Glossary. 
Henry Lee Hargrove, Ph.D. $1.00. 
XIV. The Phonology of the Northimibrian Gloss of St Matthew. 

Eboly Howard Foley, Ph.D. $0.76. 
XV. Essays on the Study and Use of Poetry by Plutarch and 
Basil the Great, translated from the Greek, with an 
Introduction. Frederick M. Padelford, Ph J). $0.76. 
XVL The Translations of Beowulf: A Critical Bibliography. 
Chauncey B. Tinker, Ph.D. $0.76. 

Tale Studies in EngBsh 

XVH The Alchemist, by Ben Jonson, edited with IntroductioD, 

Notes, and Glossary. Charles Bi. Hathaway, Jr^ 

Ph.D. $2.60. Cloth, W.00. 

XVin. TheExpression ofPurpose in Old English Prose. HuBsrr 

Gibson Shearin, PhX). $1.00. 

XIX. Classical Mythology in Shakespeare. Robert KmsuRM 

Root, Ph.D. $1.00. 
XX. The Controversy between the Puritans and the Stage. 

Elbert N. S. Thompson, PhD. $2.00. 
XXI. The Elene of Cynewulf, translated into English Prose. 

Lucius Hudson Holt. $0.30. 
XXn. King Alfred's Old English Version of St Augustine's 
Soliloquies, turned into Modem English. Hsnrt Lee 
Hargrove, Ph.D. $0.76. 
XXin. The Cross in the Life and Literature of the Anglo-Saxons. 

WnjJAM O. Stevens, Ph.D. $0.76. 
XXIV. An Index to the Old English Glosses of the Durham 

Hymnarium. Harvey W. Chapman. $0.76. 
XXV. Bartholomew Fair, by Ben Jonson, edited with Introduc- 
tion, Notes, and Glossary. Carroll Storrs Alden, 
PhJ). $2.00. 
XXVI. Select Translations from Scaliger's Poetics. Frederick 

M. Padelford, Ph.D. $0.76. 
XXVn. Poetaster, by Ben Jonson, edited with Introduction, 
Notes, and Glossary. Herbert S. BLillort, PhJ). 
$2.00. Cloth, $2.60. 
XXVm. The Staple of News, by Ben Jonson, edited with Intro- 
duction, Notes, and Glossary. De Winter, PhJ). 
$2.00. Cloth, $2.60. 
XXDC. The Devil is an Ass, by Ben Jonson, edited with Intro- 
duction, Notes, and Glossary. William Savage John- 
son, Ph.D. $2.00. Cloth, $2.60. 
XXX. The Language of the Northumbrian Gloss to the Gospel 
of St. Luke. Margaret Button Kellum, PhJ). $0.76. 
XXXI. Epicoene, by Ben Jonson, edited with Introduction, Notes, 
and Glossary. Aureua Henry, Ph.D. $2.00. Cloth, 

XXXII. The Syntax of the Temporal Clause in Old EngUsh 

Prose. Arthur Adams, Ph.D. $1.00. 

XXXIII. The Knight of the Burning Pestle, by Beaumont and 

Fletcher, edited with Introduction, Notes, and 
Glossary. Herbert S.MuRCH,Ph.D. $2.00. Cloth, $2.60. 

XXXIV. The New Inn, by Ben Jonson, edited with Introduction, 

Notes, and Glossary. George Bremner Tennant, 
Ph.D. $2.00. Cloth, $2.60. 




v/*/v^>--'\Ai.^ AA/> 

Sp> I 1996 




J- i,